The end was only the beginning
by MK-ONE
Summary: Takes place after the final victory over Voldemort.A moment of greif fueled rage is misplaced and lives are changed.Harry seeks out a new life abroad; one of duty and honor, though the life he left behind is still calling him home as events conspire against him. Eventually,he finds his heart.Some similarities between this and others of my stories,though this one stands on its own.
1. Chapter 1: Prelude-The Return

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters

A/N: Sorry everyone. I accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter. Here's the beginning of "the end..."

**The End Was Only the Beginning: Prelude**

Witches and wizards were celebrating throughout the castle, or what was left of it. Hogwarts was nearly a total loss, though that hardly mattered to the celebratory mood that most people found their selves in now that the Death Eaters had been defeated and Voldemort lie dead at Harry Potter's feet.

Harry pulled himself out of a sobbing Hermione's and an exalted Ron's embrace and pushed his way through the throng of revelers that now filled the Great Hall to over flowing. His eyes fixed on a smallish red headed form that was barely visible behind several larger, like red headed individuals.

A year, it had been nearly a year since he'd seen Ginny, and he would wait no longer. The prophesy had been fulfilled with Voldemort's demise. His life was now his own... and he chose to spend every last minute of it with Ginny. They could be together now. That thought had been the one thing that had kept him going this past year.

Harry finally made it past the never ending multitude of back slapping expressions of gratitude that he had only been the slightest bit aware of it, and then, only in the sense that it was delaying him from reaching his ultimate goal- Ginny. The mere thought of her being so near was like the answer to a prayer.

Harry finally managed to push his way out of the crowd; just before the wind went out of his sails.

The Weasley's were all gathered around the fallen form of one of their own. Harry's emerald green eyes scanned the mourner's; Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, (he'd just left Ron behind him), Ginny,.. George... George was crying with Charlie's arm around his shoulders, half consoling and half supporting his younger brother in his horrific grief.

Harry caught a glimpse of the fallen form that the rest of the Weasley family was huddled around.

_No, not Fred?!_

He had been a fool to even consider that a family as large as the Weasleys, would come through the war both intact and unscathed. Harry scrubbed at the tears that marred his cheeks as he made his way hesitantly forward.

_What could he say? He had to say something, though what could possibly help or even remotely bring the slightest of comfort at a time like this?_

"M-Mrs. Weasley, everyone...?" Harry began hesitantly. "I'm so sorry about Fred. If there's anything I can possibly do?"

Molly Weasley turned around so abruptly that Harry stumbled backward uncertainly.

"I think you've done quite enough already, Mr. Potter." she scathed vehemently.

"Molly..?" Arthur Weasley reached out a restraining hand toward his distraught wife, but she shrugged him away as if he were no more than an annoying insect.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm.." Harry began in trepidation.

Molly Weasley face contorted angrily. "Sorry, I know." she answered for him. "But sorry won't bring my Fred back, now will it?"she hissed sarcastically.

Harry had never seen her like this before. He'd seen her in a righteous rage many times, but this? This was pure contempt, loathing even, and it was all directed at him.

Mrs. Weasley planted her hands on her hips and loomed over a thoroughly uncertain Harry Potter, and continued her rant:

"You just had to lure Voldemort and his thugs back here, didn't you?" she accused caustically.

"I..I had to come back here. I-It was the only way. Voldemort was on to us and was coming here anyway to try and save his hor…" Harry clamped his mouth shut, just short of announcing the existence of Voldemort's horcruxes.

"He was coming here after you and you led him back here to all these children. Their deaths are as much your fault as they are his."Harry gapped blankly as Mrs. Weasley's raged washed over him.

_Was he to blame? In his zeal to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes, did he blindly put children at risk?_

The possibility that what she was implying could be true- absolutely sickened and horrified him.

"If you hadn't put all these children's lives at risk in the first place, then Fred wouldn't have had to have been here trying to protect them. Any way you slice it, the blame lies on your shoulders."

"You're wrong!" Harry felt a supporting hand on his shoulder as the voice of one he cherished, came to his defense.

"The war took Fred. Voldemort took Fred, just as sure as if he'd cast the curse with his own wand. Harry has saved thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of lives, by finally ending this war in the only way it could end-with Voldemort dead."

Cheers and supportive shouts answered Hermione's impassioned words.

"No" Molly Weasley shook her head desolately in disagreement.

"Molly, luv?" Her husband reached out a placating hand, but she would accept no comfort.

Her children stood behind her with looks of utter shock and trepidation on their faces, all accept Ginny. Ginny was crying despondently, sheltered in her eldest brother's embrace as she watched her mother do what Voldemort never could… destroy Harry Potter.

"He's no savior in my book." Mrs. Weasley spat venomously. Her eyes narrowed into threatening slits, her nostrils flared and grief poured out of her in a rage.

"He's a harbinger of death and destruction. Nothing but misery and grief follows in his wake."

Harry stumbled back as if he'd been struck a blow across his face from an unseen foe. The Hall went deathly quiet. The sounds of both grief and revelry died at Molly Weasley's accusation.

Harry just stood there, gapping at the women whom he'd loved like a second mother, whilst she glared back with hate filled eyes.

Whispers of denial, outrage were few within the gathered throng, more so were those of agreement at Molly Weasley 's pronouncement. Many were likewise grieving this morning and Molly was providing them an outlet.

The whispers and rasps of agreement around Harry startled him out of his shocked state. His eyes drifted around the Hall , finally settling on the one person who's opinion meant the most to him- Ginny.

Ginny's tear filled eyes locked on his momentarily, then shifted uncertainly to her mother's, before faltering and letting her gaze fall to the floor.

Molly's own gaze shifted toward Harry with a look of righteous triumph. "There's you answer, Potter." she all but crowed, and then added cruelly "No one in this family wants anything to do with you. You're the 'hand of death' and you've already claimed one life in this family, and it's the **last** life. Get out of my sight." Molly spat icily.

People whispered around the Hall with renewed vigor. Some shifted uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between themselves and the person whom they'd just been celebrating as their hero,... now pariah.

Harry shifted his gaze blankly to the two who had stood by him through it all. Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably in Ron's arms. Harry caught Ron's eyes and he could see the pain of his best friend's convictions mirrored in his sky blue eyes- Ron would side with his family.

Voldemort had won.

Harry cast a last sorrowful look in Ginny's direction then turned on the spot and did what magical history claimed was impossible, with a deafening " **Crack **", Harry Potter apparted out of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Return**

Five years had passed. Five long years by most people's reckoning, but five years seemed as only five days to his way of thinking. Far too soon had he been forced to return to the one place he had silently vowed to never return to.

Boot falls echoed hollowly down the corridor as Harry made his way unencumbered toward the Minister's office. Whispers followed in his wake. Startled gasps of fear or delight heralded his approach. He was oblivious to it all as he passed by. He'd heard it all before, thousands of times before. Today was no different than any other. People were mostly the same the world over. The same hopes and dreams, tempered with the same fears and biases. He was still the same person in most people's eyes; savior to some, harbinger to others.

He'd grown an inch or two. His shoulders were broad, tapering down a powerful frame to a taut, well muscled abdomen. All of the above was carried on sturdy legs powered by steel hard muscles that lent a fluid grace and certainty to every step he took. Every self assured step carried him to the office of Britain's Minister of Magic. A Minister that he had not voted for, nor had he supported.

The new minister was a capable bureaucrat. As far as bureaucrats went, this one was more capable than most, though Harry had no personal love for anyone that held the office. History had taught him the valuable lesson of being ever cautious in dealing with Minister's of Magic. In that regard, this Minister was no different.

He didn't want to be here. He'd specifically requested to never have to return here. He didn't answer to the British Minister, or any other Minister for that matter. He answered only to the ruling council of the International Confederation of Wizards. Unfortunately, that august body had ordered him here, so here he had come. He knew his job, knew it well. He'd been a Knight for three years now, ever since he'd completed his training as a Battle Mage, the first such to reach that distinction in over a thousand years. As a knight, he was charged with upholding the law- by any means necessary.

Knights were empowered to kill in the protection of themselves, and or, others. They could do so with impunity, as Harry had proven the case many times in the past three years. He wore the uniform of a Confederation Knight, but with an added twist.. All knights carried a sword, and wore a black uniform, that is where the similarity between the distinction of themselves and Harry ended.

Most knights wore their sword over there right hip or shoulder, leaving their right arm free to draw a wand. Harry had no need to follow their example as he rarely if ever used a wand anymore. He was highly proficient in wandless magic. The most noticeable difference between Harry's garb and that of his brother knights was that his night black uniform was marred by a blood stained hand print over the left breast, his unprotected left breast. Harry did not wear the dragon hide breastplate that all knights were required to wear. An enlarged version of that handprint adorned his cape, which was draped over his left shoulder, leaving his right arm free to draw the gleaming ebony blade he wore on his left hip.

He had become the semblance of that which he was so unjustly labeled… the 'Hand of Death'; a symbol he carried on his uniform. Some called the insignia a warning. Harry called it a true representation of the once prophesy that distinguished his existence.

Harry's thoughts had brought him to the outer office of the British Minister, more quickly than he would have liked. Though it had been years since he stood in this spot, it would always be too soon to repeat the visit, as far as he was concerned.

Harry steeled himself and entered the outer office without bothering to knock. The Minister's secretary was busy at her desk, but looked up in surprise at his entry. She had obviously been expecting him, as most people were not so much surprised at his appearance, as they were shocked, or even terrified!

The secretary was a young attractive witch with long brown hair pulled back into a pony tail that cascaded down the back of her standard issue, black ministry robes.

"Confederation Knight, Harry Potter reporting for duty. Is the Minister in?" Harry could not entirely keep the hopeful anticipation, (that the minister might be out of the office), out of his tone.

The young witch smiled brightly as she stood and announced "It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Harry. I've heard so many stories about you. My mum and dad will be ever so surprised when I tell them that I actually got to meet the famous Harry Potter".

Harry shot her a withering glare that took the flirtatious smile right off of her face.

"The Minister?" he reiterated blandly.

"Oh, ah… of course." The young witch answered crest fallen as she turned to the Minister's office door.

"One moment please, while I see if the Minister's available."

The young witch return after a moment and held the door open beckoning him forward as she curtseyed and announced, "The Minister will see you know."

Harry strode into the office without gracing the young witch with a second glance in his passing. The sooner he completed the job, the sooner he could vacate these shores.

"Harry, it's good to see you again. How long has it been?" Arthur Weasley, Britain's Minister of Magic smiled invitingly as he rose from his desk in greeting, extending his hand.

"Knight Potter, if you please?" Harry redirected coolly.

"Beg your pardon?" Arthur Weasley asked as his smile faltered.

"Sir, I am here on business." Harry began in a coolly professional tone. "As such I expect to be addressed by my proper title, as I intend to offer you the same consideration. I am known by my given name to only a very select few close friends and associates. I am known as Sir Harry to familiar acquaintance's. You sir fit into neither category. Lastly, and just for the record; It's been five years, two months, six days and fourteen minutes since I've suffered the misfortune of our association."

Minister Weasley's hand dropped to his side but he still quirked a grin as he retorted.

"But who's counting, right?"

"Indeed." Harry returned unemotionally, in a tone reminiscent of his former Potion's instructor.

" Harry.." Mr. Weasley began; taking note of Harry's stiffening in response to the use of his given name. "While I can appreciate your trepidation,…things that night were,.. emotionally difficult. Molly was speaking from her pain, not from her head or her heart." He amended sadly and continued to try and explain. " We…."

Harry held up his hand halting his explanation before Arthur could barely begin.

"I reiterate; I am here on business. Let's make this easy on ourselves, shall we? Just give me my assignment and any pertinent information you have regarding the case and I'll get to it. When I finish the assignment, have any additional assignments ready on my return so that I can expedite their completion without delay, thus avoiding any unnecessary emotional overtures. Once I've completed any and all assignments to your satisfaction, I'll depart and, Merlin willing, we'll have far more than five years before either of us must suffer the presence of the other again."

Minister Weasley's jaw worked soundlessly as he bit back any further attempt to try and reach out to the young man that stood stoically confident before him. Gone were the tell tale round glasses, the lanky form, and the endearing innocence that once shone from his mother's eyes.

In its place: piercing emerald green eyes gazed raptor like from a powerfully built man who moved with fluid assurance. If it wasn't for the familiarity of those green eyes and the vivid scar on his forehead, Arthur Weasley would have never recognized the man, or more properly, the shell of the man who stood before him.

Regarding outer shells; Harry's distinct lack of armor was troubling. The bloody hand print displayed on his uniform's left breast, even more so. He'd heard the descriptions, the stories'… and the rumors. Up till now, he'd hoped they we're all just fictional accounts; merely propaganda generated to sell newspapers. Fanciful tales to delight children and frighten would be evil doers or even just exaggerations of over active imaginations.

Now that he'd seen him first hand, Arthur Weasley knew with one hundred percent certainty that every troubling account regarding "The Hand" was absolutely authentic. Harry was striving to become that which Molly had wrongfully labeled him in a moment of grief induced madness. Harry was becoming the "Hand of Death".

That he had achieved the rank of Battle Mage was unbelievable. His file listed one accomplishment after another. Any one such achievement few wizards could boast to have attained over an entire lifetime, but, **all of them ,… **and at** 22 years of age!**

Proficient at wandless magic.

Weapons master.

Martial arts expert.

Command level tactician.

The qualifications contained within his file went on and on…

They were closely followed by a comprehensive listing of all of Harry's completed missions and assignments over the past three years since his induction as a Confederation Knight.

One hundred and forty-seven cases –resolved. No failures; a completely unblemished record. No knight in history has ever achieved as an impressive record of service, nor displayed such an aptitude.

That was the official record.

Unofficially; Harry was credited with surviving twelve assassination attempts. All assailants were dispatched without resulting civilian casualties, nor outstanding collateral damage.

In short, Harry had become an economically efficient, killing machine.

Minister Weasley's mind considered all these things; Harry's appearance, his record, his chilling persona- All of it. He was resolved to his course, though it was five years too late.

He handed Harry the dossier on his first assignment. "Ron is the lead auror on this case. I'm sure he will make himself available to answer any questions you may have." Minister Weasley indicated with a slight sense of hope.

"Thank you, Minister." Harry returned icily before turning on his heel and leaving the office without waiting for an official dismissal.

Arthur Weasley slumped warily into his chair.

_So much for inviting Harry to the Burrow for dinner ._He thought dejectedly.

His eyes strayed to the clock on his office wall.

_Five years, two months, six days, four hours and thirty eight minutes too long since we rectified what should have never been allowed to happen in the first place. _Arthur Weasley considered shamefully.

_The grief in our hearts over Fred was so fresh and raw. Molly lashed out in her pain without thinking and the rest of us blindly followed along in her wake. Well, almost all of us. Fleur and Hermione had remained level headed and justifiably loyal, but the rest of us? The rest of us destroyed something beyond precious. We destroyed the trust and along with it, the love, of one who deserves all the love and consideration this world has to offer._

Arthur Weasley admonished himself once again, as he had done every day over the past five years, four months and six days, since the day he had stood idly by and let the love of his life destroy the love of his daughter's life. His sons had lost another brother that day. Molly and he had lost a another son, and Ginny,... Ginny had lost the most of all.

Too late they'd come to their senses and realized their hideous betrayal. Harry had left and for two whole years he was out of reach, having entered into Mage training at the Strombridge Institute in Salem. It was named for its founder, Galewin Strombrige, the last to hold the title of Battle Mage.

That was until Harry came along.

After Harry had graduated, and the rest of the world recovered from the shocking news that a Battle Mage had been named. He was immediately inducted into Knighthood by the Confederation. Harry immersed himself in his duties, taking on every unsolved and supposedly unsolvable case that was still on the books.

Dark lords were summarily defeated. Cults and plots against the public were destroyed with extreme prejudice. Murderers were soon brought to justice. An entire wing was added to Azkaban to house the substantial increase in the convict population as a result of Harry's actions..

The legend of Harry Potter grew to epic proportions and the heartache within his once surrogate family followed suit.

They'd sent owls, dozens upon dozens of them in fact. All returned with their letters unopened. Invitations to weddings, baptisms, anniversaries; all were met with complete disregard.

Every one of his son's had made a personal attempt to see Harry at one point or another, Ron, Bill and George had tried on several occasions, but had returned dejected . Harry was always out on assignment and as such, was unavailable due to security precautions. The fact that Harry was intentionally making himself unavailable went without saying. Immersing himself in his work had granted Harry the distinct advantage of making him unapproachable by the general public.

The only response that anyone in the family had supposedly received from Harry in the last five years was in answer to Fleur and Bill's request that Harry act as godfather to their daughter, Willimenia. The missive he'd returned had been short, but it was at least a reply. One that Fleur had not anticipated having to read in front of the Weasley family, but they we're all in attendance at Shell Cottage, when the owl arrived. Only Ginny was not in attendance as she was on the road playing quidditch with the Holyhead Harpies.

Ginny's lifelong dream of playing professional Quidditch with the Harpies had become a reality, but it proved bittersweet, having come in the wake of losing the love of her life.

Flash back

_Fleur,_

_Though I am greatly honored that you would even consider someone like me…_

"_Someone like me_? What does he mean '_someone like me_'?" Ron scoffed indignantly, interrupting Fleur's narration.

"I should zink zat would be obvious, Ronald." Fleur shot back with a roll of her eyes.

"So he still believes that we all think he's a murderer? " Charlie asked incredulously.

"He has no reason to think otherwise." Hermione added skeptically to the vein of their conversation.

"We've tried to see him. We've sent letters. He won't even meet us half way." Percy added defensively.

"And why should he?" Fleur scoffed angrily. "He has nothing to answer to you for. You all rounded on him like a pack of starving dogs. Now be quiet and let me finish." Fleur scanned the note in her hand and began to finish reading the note that Harry had sent.

…_honored that you would even consider someone like me as a godfather candidate for little Willie. _

_Regretfully, I must decline for personal and professional reasons. The former being one that I'm sure needs no explanation, the latter; as a Confederation Knight, my duties require me to be in the field a great deal of the time and I would be unable to fulfill my duty adequately, as Godparent, to Willie._

_Please try and explain my inability to serve as her Godfather in a fashion that she can understand. Remind her that she is dear to me and that I miss her greatly. I should be able to stop by the cottage next week before I have to go out on my next assignment. _

_Give Willie a hug and kiss for me!_

_Love, Harry_

Fleur finished the note and shared a brief, knowing look with Hermione, before the inevitable tide of questions.

"What does he mean, _'stop by the cottage_? Bill bit out in angry disbelief.

"Yeah, and how does he know that we call her Willie for short. " George added bewildered.

Fleur lovingly ran her hand through the silver locks of her four year old and quite precocious, daughter, who lie sleeping in her arms.

_Ze proverbial cat iz out of ze bag_.

Though she had initially dreaded this moment, now that it was upon her she felt only profound relief.

"'Arry knows, these things because he visits Willie and me on a regular basis and has done so for ze past three years. Willie absolutely adores 'em." Fleur explained with a proud defiant look on her face.

Hermione cleared her throat drawing the attention of her stunned surrogate family as she added.

"Harry has remained in contact with Fleur and me since he left. We were his friends then and we remain his friends now. Nothing has changed between the three of us."

It was several moments before anyone could compose themselves enough to form a reply to this shocking revelation.

"All...this… time ? You mean all this time you've been in contact with Harry, and you kept it from me?" Ron turned and hissed accusingly to his girlfriend.

"Yes" Hermione replied simply.

Bill turned to his radiantly defiant wife and asked, "Why?"

"Why what, Bill? Why did I not sever ties with someone I care about az if he were my own brozer?" She turned a baleful glare toward her mother in-law, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this entire exchange.

"Why did I not betray ze one person whoz entire life and happiness he sacrificed for ze rest of us without reservation? Why...?"

Hermione interrupted her, but was facing Ron as she added solemnly. "Why did we choose to continue to love someone who deserves all the love and understanding that we can possible give, though he would never ask for it, let alone expect it from us?"

Ron's upper lip trembled and his eyes searched her face for some small sign of sympathy but he found none there.

"H-Hermione , I…" He began haltingly before she cut him off.

"I love you, Ron. I love you for the boy you once were and the man you've grown to be, but… I hate you for who you were in between. It was your betrayal that was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Molly only opened the wound." Hermione's words became caustic and she glared daggers at the Weasley matriarch.

"You, however, tore a hole right into his heart ,… and as for the rest of you?" Hermione's glare swept around the room. "The rest of you guided the sword that pierced his heart, but it was you ,Ron,.. it was your hand on the pommel of that sword. He loved you more than any of us and you turned your back on him when he needed you most."

Tears filled the corners of Ron's eyes, tears of shame and regret.

"Does he ever,.. does he ever talk about me?" Ron asked hopefully, swiping away a stray tear.

"Never" Hermione spat back in a flat monotone that was devoid of any compassion.

"He never talks about any of you. He never asks about any of you. Wait? I take that back. He did mention Molly once recently."

Molly lifted her tear stained face in trepidation. She was afraid to ask, but she was too afraid not to.

"W-What did he say?" she asked anxiously.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow and answered. "This was only a few months ago when we'd met for lunch. I asked him if he had met anyone that he might be interested in dating. He snorted derisively and answered, ' what sort of a woman would ever be serious about me?'

"I said that I thought a lot of nice witches would consider their selves lucky to have him. He laughed at this like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

I was surprised by his reaction, so I asked him what he found so amusing about that." Hermione paused and pulled a face like she had swallowed something vile.

"W-What did he say? " Arthur Weasley asked curiously, voicing the same question that was on everyone's mind.

Hermione shook he head desolately. "His smile faded and he answered with complete conviction that; no decent witch would ever be interested in someone like him because **Molly** was right,… that he is the

'Hand of Death'."

Hermione brushed at her eyes. She was lost in the thoughts of her own regrets, oblivious to the sniffles from the others gathered around her.

Present

Arthur Weasley sat in his office in apprehensive silence. He thought over the irony of that moment. They'd all hoped that Hermione was exaggerating.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Two: Five years, two months, six days, four hours and forty minutes earlier.**

**Falshback**

The Great Hall fell into stunned silence after witnessing Harry do the unbelievable yet again, by having apparated out of Hogwarts. That was a feat that not even Dumbledore had been able to manage throughout his long tenure at Hogwarts. It was a feat that was supposed to be impossible.

Fighting down her own shock at Harry's startling departure, headmistress McGonagal seized upon the moment and pushed her way easily through the gathered throng to the object of her growing revulsion. Schooling her features, she decided reluctantly on a more diplomatic approach, for now. There were things to do and time was of the essence.

McGonagal drew herself up in front of the distraught Weasley family.

"Molly, I believe it would be best if you saw your family safely home. You all need your rest and I'm sure you'll need to make arrangements for Frederick. I shall call on you tomorrow afternoon, but do please contact me if there's anything I can do to be of assistance beforehand." Minerva McGonagal announced compassionately, but with authority.

"Y-Yes, thank you, Minerva, Percy dear, would you and George see to Fred. Charlie, help your sister. Come along everyone, it's time we went home." She called out taking control of the situation, though still not realizing the full magnitude of what her grief filled momentary lapse of reason had wrought.

Ron reached a hand out to Hermione, but she pulled back from his reach and spat though tear stained eyes.

"Don't touch me!"

"Hermione, luv…?" Ron asked puzzled.

"Don't call me that. I hate you for what you've done,... what you did to him. You betrayed us once already, now you've gone and done it again."

Ron pulled his hand back as if scalded.

She couldn't believe that he had the audacity to look innocent. The idiot actually had no insight into the harm his betrayal had caused.

"Ms. Granger?" McGonagal interjected, diffusing the situation. "Would you please come with me? I have a few questions."

"O-Of course Professor,.. and thank you." she added grateful for the chance to get away as she joined the Headmistress, shooting Ron a last contemptuous glare as they left the Hall.

McGonagal ushered Hermione into her office and swept her hand toward the chair in front of her desk.

Hermione had barely seated herself when the headmistress called out authoritatively,

"Kreacher!"

A small pop heralded the arrival of the aged house elf that had belonged to the Black family but was not bequeathed to Harry in Sirius's will.

" Kreacher, your master, Harry Potter, is missing. Would you be a dear and find him?"

"Yes, Mistress." The old elf was eager to help.

"Kreacher?" McGonagal added before the elf could leave. "Master Harry is probably a bit over wrought at the moment. Please, see to his safety. Stun him if you must, and then come fetch me would you?"

An apprehensive look creased the elderly elf's already wrinkled features, but he nodded his head in understanding. He knew a command when he heard one.

With a small 'pop' of displaced air, Kreacher apparated away to find his master.

Head Mistress McGonagal seated herself and conjured a steaming pot of tea and two ornate cups on a silver tray with an assortment of biscuits and scones.

"Please, help yourself, Ms. Granger. I dare say we could all do with a bit of rest and food right now."

Hermione nodded her head dolefully. "I'm not hungry, thank you. I'm too worried about Harry to eat right now."

McGonagal nodded her head in agreement. "Do not judge the Weasley's too harshly, dear. People often respond unpredictably when aggrieved. Right now, however, I believe Harry is our first priority. I won't lie in that I am extremely concerned about how he might react to yet another devastating loss in a young life that has already been marred too often by strife and neglect."

The dam finally broke and Hermione burst into tears. Great sobs wracked her body as she wept out her bitterness and fear. The night had been an emotional roller coaster, from which no end was in sight. Seeing Harry lying dead in Hagrid's arms had been devastating. Then to have him miraculously recover and face Voldemort in a final duel was majestic, awe inspiring. Now, in the moment of his triumph, to have his dreams and hopes completely dashed by being scorned and labeled a _pariah_… it was all just too much.

Hermione felt a reassuring hand pat her on her shoulder, as her grief washed out of her. Normally she would have been dumbstruck by any display of emotion or compassion from the normally stolid witch, but right now she was just too miserable to feel anything but gratitude to the headmistress.

Anxious minutes passed and Hermione's sobs eventually subsided to a semblance of controlled sniffles. A faint popping sound proceeded Kreacher's return to the headmistress's office. Hermione's fervent hopes were immediately dashed on seeing the aged elf's stricken countenance.

"Ah, Kreacher, have you located Mr. Potter?" McGonagal asked hopefully not yet registering the elf's anxious demeanor.

"No, Headmistress. " Kreacher answered mournfully. "Kreacher looked everywhere through the House of Black , Potter Manor and he even searched through the ruin at Godric's Hollow, but Master Harry was not there. His trunk and the broom stick that Master Sirius gave him are gone, miss." The elf's voice rose in trepidation as he recounted his failed attempts to locate Harry.

"But surely he's somewhere? Can't you sense his location?" McGonagal urged, a hint of desperation was creeping into her voice.

Kreacher's face scrunched up in concentration as he attempted to utilize an elf's innate ability to sense their master's needs and whereabouts. After several pensive minutes of waiting, Kreacher blew out a frustrated breath and shook his head woefully, his bat like ears flopped against his head as he did so.

"Kreacher cannot find Master." he wailed "Master is too far away, somewhere west."

"Well can't you apparate to him, or at least apparate closer until you can get a fix on his location?" Hermione pleaded.

Kreacher shook his head and scrubbed at the tears forming at the corners of his globular eyes.

"Miss doesn't understand. Master Harry is too far away for Kreacher to go to. He has crossed over the great sea to the west. Elvsies cannot travel such a distance."

"Across the great sea?" McGonagal mused, then blurted out astonished. "Merlin! Do you mean that Mr. Potter had apparated across the Atlantic Ocean?!" She goggled at the little elf.

"Yes, Miss. Master Harry has left Europe. He is too far away for poor Kreacher to find him." Kreaher wailed desolately.

"But that's thousand's of miles?" Hermione scoffed in stunned disbelief. "Even the strongest wizard or witch can apparate only several hundred miles at best. How could he possibly apparate all the way across the ocean? He would have had to make several jumps by having gone around the northern route, but even that would take a day or two allowing for periodic rest to recover one's strength and magical reserves? "

"I think not." McGonagal murmured disheartened. "You forget, Hermione, that he apparated out of Hogwarts only a scant hour ago and that's supposed to be impossible. I think it's quite probable that young Mr. Potter did in fact apparate all the way across the Atlantic, to the colonies. The question is why did he go to America?" she considered.

"Well obviously he went to get as far away from us as possible." Hermione answered incredulously.

McGonagal raised an eyebrow. "Undoubtedly, but why America specifically? It hasn't been an hour since he departed and still he managed to pack his belongings and even managed to apparate all the way to America. It seems quite a feat for someone who's exhausted and distraught? One would almost think that Harry had planned for this contingency." McGonagal speculated

Hermone goggled skeptically at her former professor. "What are you implying?"

McGonagal tapped her finger on her chin as she mulled over the situation.

"There is one possibility that might explain Harry's reasoning for bolting to America. Given Mr. Potter's extreme affinity toward a profound sense of honor and duty, and taking into consideration that he no doubt feels utterly abandoned by those he has come to consider as his own family,.. I think it likely that Harry has opted to pursue a rather extreme course of action."

Puzzled, Hermione asked with growing trepidation. "What sort of 'course of action'?"

McGonagal rose from her desk and strolled over to her office window to watch the first ray's of dawn break over the horizon. Her voice came back cryptically as she did so.

"Professor Dumbledore had secured an enrollment for Harry in another institution of learning, should Hogwart's prove to be unreliable in providing for his safety whilst he learned and prepared himself to face Voldemort for the final confrontation. It had been a contingency plan that thankfully, had not proven required. The course of study at said institution is a most severe curriculum of exacting standards."

"W-What institution?" Hermione muttered fearfully.

"I am, of course, referring to the Strombridge Institute in Salem."

"No" Hermione breathed out in denial.

McGonagal turned and regarded her brightest student compassionately. She nodded her head in confirmation and reiterated.

"I'm afraid so. If he has enrolled in the Strombridge program, then due to their extreme adherence to security precautions, Harry will be unavailable until he completes Mage training, which can take up to five years for successful completion for most candidates, given that he even survives said training.

"Five Years!" Hermione screeched aghast, bolting out of her chair too fast. A wave of dizziness took her and she toppled toward the floor.

Quick wand work, by the Headmistress, managed to catch her before she hit the floor and potentially harming her battle weary form. Another flick of the wand and the headmistress levitated Hermione to a nearby sofa. Another flick and a thick blanket appeared over the young women's unconscious form.

"Poor child" McGonagal whispered sympathetically before turning her gaze back toward the rising son and praying.

"May Merlin watch over you, Harry."

* * *

**Flash Forward – Two Years and Four Months Later**

"The reception area is filled with reporters, Harry. There's a rather pushy witch from your home country's '_Daily Prophet'_ , claiming she's a personal friend of yours and insisting that you've given her permission to enter the Institute for a personal interview."

Harry rolled his eyes and mused sourly. "Sounds like Rita Bloody Skeeter, to me. "

"That's the lady's name." Bjorn Dykstra confirmed.

Bjorn, (a native blonde haired and blue eyed Icelander), was a Confederation Knight, the First Knight actually, and had served as one of Harry's closest mentors and advisors over the past two years. Most students at the institute had a lot of one on one instruction throughout their curriculum, but Harry's talents and abilities had readily caught the interest of the Confederation of Wizards, that coupled with his already not inconsiderable reputation from having dispatched the most feared Dark Lord of the age.

"Trust me on this," Harry reaffirmed. " Rita is '**no** lady'."

Bjorn chuckled knowingly. "It's like that, is it?"

"The 'lady' publishes nothing but lies and half truths. She's a menace that gives all reporters a bad name, not that they need much help in that regard." Harry harrumphed.

"Ohh, poor Harry, So misunderstood. " Bjorn teased, leaning against the door frame to Harry's quarters with his hands crossed over the broad chest of his white caped , night black uniform.

Harry rolled his eyes as he finished placing his civilian clothes in his battered old trunk. He considered buying a new trunk, but, with his having accepted a commission as a Knight for the Confederation of Wizards, Harry wouldn't have much use for a trunk anymore. He was already wearing the only clothes he would ever need.

Harry's own uniform was the same jet black color as Bjorn's, but with the distinction of having only lieutenant's bars on his lapels and a black cape with scarlet colored lining, denoting his station as a Knight- yes, but only the First Knight wore a white cape, and he alone commanded the knights.

Harry ignored the jibe and suggested. "Can't we just apparate straight to Confederation Headquarters so I can get squared away and begin my first assignment? I can't see what all the fuss is about, anyway."

It was Bjorn's turn to roll his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that the famous "Boy Who Lived" just completed Mage training in a new record time of -Two Years , three months, two weeks and six days, completely shattering the previous record by over a year's time. " Bjorn began incredulously.

"Or maybe it's the fact that not only has Harry Potter completed Mage training, but has also achieved the institute's highest graduation honor, that of a Battle Mage; the first to have achieved that rank since Strombridge himself."

"Hardly a distinguished achievement," Harry scoffed engaging the banter, "since Strombridge barely survived a year after graduating.

Dykstra was about to retort when a third year student named, Lynn Bryson, interrupted their conversation.

Bryson was a capable bloke, who would make a welcome addition to the knights, if his father wasn't insisting that he join the family's security business, after completing his training. Floyd Dryson had offered Harry a lucrative position at Bryson Security Enterprises, but Harry had little interest in money as he was already one of the wealthiest wizards in the entire world.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Knight Potter has a visitor."

"Knight Potter? Come on Lynn, It's me, Harry." Harry retorted good naturedly.

Bryson smirked and returned, "Alright then, 'Sir Harry' has a visitor."

The smile dropped from Harry face when he considered the prospect of who could possibly be wanting to see him, other than that nuisance, Skeeter.

"Who is it?" Harry asked cautiously, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Bjorn's direction.

"A pretty brunette, a bit bookish for my tastes though. Calls herself…" Bryson began to describe Harry's visitor but was cut off by...

"Hermione Granger!" Harry blurted excitedly, brushing past Bryson and Bjorn without a backward glance.

Harry trotted down the hall excitedly calling out his friend's name as he did so.

"Hermione!"

"Harry?" He heard a familiar voice call out from the family visitor's lounge.

Harry rounded the corner and burst into the lounge….

Hermione was more beautiful than he had remembered. She'd grown into her lithe frame and had filled out quite nicely, having curves in all the right places. Her hair was longer and silky with only a few of her former 'tell tale' curls framing her delicate face, no longer bushy-haired, like she had been growing up.

She was stunning.

While Harry stood in the doorway gapping at Hermione, drinking in her appearance, she had been doing the same to him.

_Harry had grown!_

His always too thin appearance was replaced by an athletic, well honed physique that was absolutely mouth watering. His muscles strained at the seams beneath the confines of the night black tunic he wore. He moved like a jungle cat; with that same fluid like grace and power. He almost rippled when he walked. His eyes still vibrant green, but gone was that lost, uncertain appearance, and those horrid round glasses. His eyes were sharp and clear, filled with intelligence and self confidence. His black hair was longer, down to his shoulders. His lightning bolt scar was still present on his forehead, but no longer red and angry appearing. It had faded to an off white color that was barely noticeable unless one was looking for it.

He was breath taking.

Hermione paused uncertainly, her former convictions to find and rejoin with the boy who had been her dearest friend, were fading as she gaped at the man he'd become.

_What had she expected? _She knew what she'd expected. She'd thought she find the skinny, uncertain boy she'd grown to love and admire, not the man who stood before her bristling with confidence and vitality.

Any thoughts of uncertainty fled her mind when Harry cocked his grinning head to one side and opened his arm invitingly.

Hermione flew into his arms, sobbing in her happiness as he held her tenderly within his powerful arms. It was several long emotional minutes before she was able to rein in her sobs till they were no more than faint sniffles.

She pulled herself reluctantly back a half step, refusing to sever all contact, and reached up with both hands to cup his face. Her tear filled brown eyes searched his vibrant green, while the pads of her thumbs brushed away a stray tear or two of his own.

"Oh. Harry." She lamented. "H-Harry,.. you have to know that I never,.. I could never betray you. You have to believe that I.." She tried to reassure him of her loyalty but he cut her off.

"Shush now." He rebuffed gently. "I never thought any such thing." He reassured her gently.

"Fleur wanted to come too, but she can't apparate just now. She just had a baby, Harry, a girl. She named her Willemena, after Bill, but everyone is already calling her 'Willie'. She sent a letter with me."

Hermione stepped back and pulled a thick letter out of her handbag that she pressed into Harry's apprehensive hand.

"They made a mistake, Harry." Hermione began uncertainly. "Fred's death was so fresh in their minds, so shocking. They hadn't had a chance to process everything. Molly was speaking from her grief, not from her heart. "

Harry began to pull back from her, his previously warm and inviting eyes were hardening in animosity. She could feel him slipping away.

She couldn't let it happen again.

"Harry, Please, luv? They made a mistake." She pleaded for him to understand.

"No they didn't." Harry returned coolly.

Hermione's mouth fell open in stunned disbelief. "Y-You don't mean that? You can't believe that, Harry?"

"What I believe is irrelevant. I've come to accept the person that I am, whether or not others can do so is entirely up to them."

Disturbing as his admonition was, she chose to ignore it and change the vein of their conversation to something that she hoped he would find less intimidating. She could tell by the set of his jaw and the vacant look his eyes held, that they subject of "The Weasleys" was not topic open to discussion.

"Are the rumors true? Did you really reach the level of, Battle Mage? She asked in obvious excitement.

Harry's eyes softened slightly as he nodded his confirmation. "Um,.. Yeah. It's not as big a deal as everyone is making out though."

"Not a big deal?" She gasped swatting at his arm. "You're only the second person in history to reach that level, and you did it in record time." She admonished him incredulously, and then added. "I'm so proud of you."

Harry's eyes melted at that. "Thanks, 'Mione." He responded gratefully, using the affectionate abbreviation of her name that she had once hated, now cherished hearing from him and Ron.

"What have you been doing?" He asked as he ushered her to a nearby sofa against the wall of the visitor's lounge.

"Oh, well I took a position in the Dept. of Mysteries, researching spell creation and reversal, it's time consuming, but 'oh so' fascinating. It was slow going at first, but I've managed to work my way up to heading my own team. Ron's in auror training, he's supposed to graduate this summer." She noted that his eyes were taking on that hard, hollow look again, but she pressed on hoping he'd warm to what she was saying. She still hadn't pulled out her trump card,... Ginny.

"You're seeing, Ron, then?" Harry asked coolly, almost accusingly.

Hermione nodded, "It,...er, took us a while to work through some **things **, but yes, we started dating a little over a year ago." She answered honestly. She knew she'd never be able to reach him if she was anything less than brutally honest.

"He misses you terribly, you know?" Hermione intoned softly. "We all miss you terribly. Ginny…"

Whatever she was going to say about Ginny went unsaid.

Harry's eyes blazed hatefully as he surged stiffly to his feet and bit out waspishly.

"Misses and wishes are the idle musings of poets. Regrets are a waste of time and energy. I, myself, do not waste time on such things. Whilst I am grateful for Mrs. Weasley's accurate, if harsh, assessment of my character and purpose, it warrants no basis for any future correspondence. You may tell **them, **that I am grateful for their honest appraisal, and that I wish them well in their endeavors." Harry paused briefly to give her a moment to digest his icy words, before continuing with a touch of sincere warmth.

"I'm grateful, that you came all this way, Hermione. I value our friendship and have missed you these past two years, but things are different now. I'm different, or at least- more directed, than I was before. I know my purpose now. I understand my reason for being." He finished succinctly.

"W-What's your purpose?" Hermione asked in trepidation.

Harry bent over and gently kissed her forehead in goodbye. He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder as he left the lounge. "The sacrifice of oneself for one's duty."

Hermione stared blankly at the doorway he'd just vacated, mulling over the context and meaning of his statement. When it finally dawned on her, she burst into bitter tears.

_He can't be lost to us. He just can't be? _ She futilely begged any deity that would actually bother to listen


	3. Chapter 3: Bittersweet Homecoming

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Three: Bittersweet Homecoming**

Harry ghosted through the hallways of the British Ministry of Magic. His crimson and black cape billowed out behind him as he strode purposely toward the nearest exit. His boot heels echoed hollowly across the marble floors.

He'd intentionally requested an early morning appointment with Minister Weasley at the earliest possible avenue of availability for two distinct reasons. The first; an early appointment allowed him the luxury of avoiding a full complement of Ministry personnel. At this early hour of the day, only a skeleton staff of aurors and cleaning personnel would be in the building. People rarely plucked up the courage to approach him anymore, but with his presence in the Ministry, people were bound to take a different view and think of him as 'one of the team'. His second, and most important reason for his haste in scheduling his appointment with Arthur Weasley for the following morning after his notification of reassignment, was for purely personal reasons; he wanted to avoid any and all past, _personal_ entanglements of the 'Weasley' variety.

This whole concept of reassignment to the British Ministry was fishy. With Arthur Weasley interred as the British Minister his sense of wariness was doubly so. He could apparate out and avoid any possibility of unwanted entrapments. The ministry anti-apparation wards held little more than an inconvenience by way of preventing his departure. Apparating through the wards would no doubt set off an alarm and that would only draw more unwanted attention his way. No- he would have to leg it if he wanted out of here without incurring undue attention to his presence.

The apparition point was just ahead. Somewhere to his left an office door opened.. he was almost there.

"Harry?" An all too familiar voice called out.

_Damn. He'd almost made it, almost. _

Harry steeled himself and turned expectantly. "Mr. Weasley" he intoned with cool politeness.

Ron was even taller then he remembered. Broad shouldered, heavily muscled and the same soulful blue eyes accentuated by his auburn hair and spattering of freckles. Ron wore the midnight blue robed uniform of an auror, with lieutenant's bars on his collar. His expression was hopeful, _pathetically so- _Harry thought irritably.

Ron's face blanched slightly, but he was undeterred. "Call me Ron, please?"

"Is there something I can do for you, Auror Weasley?" Harry continued politely, ignoring his request for familiarity.

"Harry, I,.. do you have any questions about the Henderson case?" Ron stalled.

"If I do, I'll ask. If there's nothing further,... _professionally speaking?_" Harry emphasized, "Then I have business elsewhere. Good day, Auror Weasley." Harry turned so quickly away that his cape billowed out behind him as if it was caught in a strong wind.

Ron's face blanched upon seeing the giant blood red hand emblazoned on his once friend's cloak. Harry's insignia, coupled with his imposing presence and icy demeanor led Ron to two very clear first impressions of the man who'd once been the boy he'd loved like his own brother, and unlike his brothers- betrayed in his heart by failing to support him when he needed it most.

Firstly; Harry was beyond dangerous. The air crackled with energy around him indicating that his magical power was at such a high level that it filled the senses of anyone in his vicinity.

Secondly; any plan at reconciliation was near doomed to failure. Harry had grown to become what his mother had once so wrongly accused him of in a moment of abject grief. Harry Potter had taken her false accusations to heart and had shaped himself into a living weapon. He did not just emulate the ideology of being the _'hand of death'_; he truly believed that he was the '_hand of death'. _By all accounts, Harry was the most dangerous and feared man on the planet.

Ron staggered back to his office under the crushing weight of his own guilt and remorse.

* * *

Sunday lunch at the Burrow was a more somber affair than usual. Though everyone was in attendance, all healthy and flourishing in their chosen careers, each waited on 'pins and needles' for someone to broach the subject that was on everyone's mind. An unlikely source was the first to do so.

"Willie, dear, wherever did you get such a lovely necklace?" Molly Weasley asked innocently of her first and only grandchild.

Willemena proudly drew her necklace out of her blouse's collar to display it to her gathered family.

The necklace was made up of literally hundreds of finely wrought silver strands woven into a delicate Celtic pattern suffused with ancient runes. It had an elegant air of antiquity that was breath taking in its simplicity.

"Unca 'Arry gave it to me, Gran Mama." Willemena answered beaming. "He said that it would protect me, but that it would only work once, and that I was only to use it when I needed it most, whatever that means. Then he pushed me!"

Gasps of alarm sounded from around the table.

Fleur eyed her unpretentious daughter with a knowing expression.

"Pushed you? Why ever did he push you child?" Molly fretted in alarm.

Willemena shrugged as she stated simply. "He's done it before. He pushes me all the time Gran Mama."

"Dear, Merlin! " Molly gasped in alarm, rounding on Fleur. "I thought you said he was gentle with the child. How could you not know about this? Surely you didn't leave her alone with him, not with all that we've been hearing?" Molly accused worriedly.

Fleur bristled slightly at Molly's accusations, but held her temper in check, asking her daughter to politely explain. "Tell your Gran Mama how exactly 'Arry pushes you, Willie."

Willie rolled her soft blue, four year old eyes at her mother and huffed out, "He **pushes** me on the tree swing."

Nervous chuckles of relief sounded around the family table. Shamefaced, Molly lowered her eyes to the table.

Taking the opportunity her daughter innocently provided, Fleur excused her daughter from the discussion about to unfold.

"Always so quick to believe ze worst of em, aren't you Molly?" Fleur spat out acerbically. "Nothing az changed. You all conspired to bring em here for your own selfish need to try and make amends, but it iz not for him you do zis, but for yourselves. You were wrong to bring em here. He does not need nor want you. It- iz- too- late." Fleur chastised them pointedly.

"The ministry's reasons for bringing Harry here are well founded, anything secondary is fortuitous, but hardly a conspiracy." Arthur Weasley defended both the ministry's assistance, as well as his family's' coincidental gain by Harry's presence in Britain..

Fleur snorted disbelievingly. "Lie to yourselves if you must, but I will have no part in it. Pray zat Hermione iz available to temper him when ze 'defecation hits ze rotating oscillator', for his wrath will be terrible to behold." she warned them.

"Rotating oscillator?" Charlie Weasley questioned out loud.

"When the 'Shite hits the fan', dear brother." George clarified. "It's a muggle saying."

"Sage wisdom these muggles." Arthur Weasley acknowledged appreciatively.

"I take it you agree with her?' Molly Weasley asked her husband in a prickly tone.

"That his wrath will be terrible?" Arthur Weasley clarified knowingly. "Yes, I would say that is an accurate expectation."

"How can you be so obtuse?" Bill Weasley asked his father.

Arthur Weasley shrugged nonchalantly, answering. "Because I've read his file, impressive as his file is, it pales by comparison when you meet the man, face to face. That, in and of itself, is saying something because Harry's file is a read that I'll never forget. He's like a force of nature; hard, relentless, unyielding. I almost feel sorry for those responsible for murdering the Henderson family, almost." Arthur Weasley surmised vaguely.

"Why on earth would you feel any sympathy for the vermin who murdered the poor Henderson family,... even the three little ones were butchered shamelessly." Molly berated dolefully.

"As terrible as the crime was that was committed by those responsible, I bow to Fleur's wisdom in recanting that Harry's 'wrath will be terrible'. I've unleashed vengeance incarnate upon them. Hell is coming to breakfast and **it **has a serious appetite." Arthur predicted.

"Don't say such things." Molly reproached in mortification, hypocritically rising to his defense now. "Harry was always a dear boy. I'm sure he'll do what's right in all of this?" Molly acknowledged with flagging hope.

"Harry was a dear boy, but that was over ten years ago." Hermione echoed hollowly, joining the conversation. "He's different now. Not worse, just different. He's self assured, confident and powerful, very powerful."

Fleur snorted disdainfully, interrupting her. "Zat iz ze understatement of ze century."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, smirking at her friend. "Indeed." she agreed, before continuing.

"He is also, as Arthur described him; hard, relentless and unyielding. At least that's how most people see him." she left off with an air of resignation for an opinion she didn't share.

"H-How do you see him?" Ginny asked anxiously curious. Her eyes pleaded with her friend for some shred of hope.

Hermione's eyes sympathized with her friend's plight. Ginny was still in love with Harry. She always would be. She never betrayed Harry's trust to Ginny or any of the others for that matter, but especially not Ginny.

Harry never asked about Ginny, he didn't need to. His mother's eyes betrayed him every now and again. Harry was still hopelessly in love with Ginny. He always would be.

Reluctantly, Hermione chose to answer Ginny's impassioned plea, just this once, after all, Arthur Weasley is accurate about one thing, 'he has unleashed vengeance incarnate'. The question now is, in whose direction will that vengeance be directed?

"Harry is complicated." Hermione began hesitantly. "He has essentially taken all the best qualities he has ever possessed and honed them to a razor's edge. They're all still there; courage, nobility, self sacrifice, protectiveness, cunning and stubbornness. Yes, even his legendary stubbornness, that's still there." Hermione huffed with a fond smile. "He's taken all those raw qualities, only now they are refined and directed toward a single goal."

Hermione's words let off and her eyes filled with tears.

"What g-goal?" Ginny stammered out shrilly. Her own voice resonated with the same dread that the rest of them were feeling.

Hermione shook her head mournfully as her tears began to fall "The eradication off all evil in the world. That and h-his own eventual destruction in the process." Hermione added, ignoring the startled gasps and echoes of denial from around the room, plowing forward to try and make them understand.

"H-He's not suicidal, but he does, on some level, want to die, or more properly: doesn't care if he survives. I think Harry truly believes that he was not meant to survive the final confrontation with Voldemort, not really. Dumbeldore used to encourage and inspire Harry by telling him that once Voldemort was gone, Harry could have the life of peace that he always dreamed of; a life free to enjoy time with his friends, even start a family of his own. The everyday things that the rest of us take for granted became the promise of a 'heaven on earth' to Harry's expectations."

Molly Weasley, wept bitterly into her hands upon hearing this, she knew what was to come, what her thoughtlessness had wrought.

"When I spurned him, I took away his reason for ever having fought back, didn't I?" Molly's accusation fell like a great weight on all their shoulders.

Hermione was reluctant to answer. The memory of that night and the nights after was bad enough, reliving it was an unnecessary torture.

"Didn't I?!" Molly shrieked, shrugging off her husband's consoling arms.

Hermione nodded in resignation. "You **all **took away Harry's reasons for ever having fought. His dream of a life of peace shared with the people he loved was utterly crushed. It devastated him, so much so, that in a twisted sort of way he took your final words to heart. In retrospect, it's easy to see how it could happen. I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone here about the depth of Harry's guilt complex? With that in mind, and Fred, Remus and Tonk's deaths so fresh, coupled with his own emotions so raw after the final battle; A few choice words were all it took to push Harry over the edge. In his vulnerability, Harry saw some grain of truth in Molly's accusations.

When Gin.. ,_when_ the rest of you," Hermione caught herself from indicating Ginny, though her friends head swiveled in her direction searchingly.

"When the rest of you mirrored Molly's sentiments, Harry took it to heart. He may not see himself necessarily as 'Death', but he does see himself as a person that is dangerous to associate with; a pariah, an outcast , a harbinger of doom. If you were to put a name to such a thing, assuming that it was true,.. what would you call him…" Hermione left off knowingly, daring someone in the room to find the courage to put a name to the label Harry had branded him with.

"The Hand of Death" Ron whispered ominously.

Hermione nodded. "Take that idea into our mind and heart and couple it with someone who spent their formative years endlessly abused and neglected, and you get-Voldemort."

Gasps of outrage and fear echoed around the room, but Hermione held up a hand to forestall their denials of where she was leading them.

"Take someone who suffered that, but still has Harry's capacity to love and forgive. Then, couple that with a mile wide nobility streak and an unending sense of honor and duty, not to mention courage in spades, put it all together and you get a relentless, unyielding servant of justice or vengeance, as the case may be; an avenger."

The room was quite, everyone was lost in their own introspection, all save one. The one who could have changed everything then and still could now.

"Y-You said that he wants to die?" Ginny pressed worriedly.

Hermione sighed. "Perhaps 'wants to die' is a poor choice of words. Hermione reflected sympathetically, seeing how shaken her future sister in-law was. She didn't want to give Ginny any false hopes though. Harry was by no means, an easy fix.

"It's more like he doesn't care if he dies." she reiterated. "He takes only the most dangerous missions, ones that almost always contain an element of extreme risk. For Harry, there is no downside in such an undertaking because he doesn't feel he has anything to lose. His life is, for all intents and purposes, inconsequential to him."

Again, the silence in the room was deafening, for the barest of moments.

"This, this is the man whom you would entrust our daughter to?" Bill Weasely accused his wife caustically.

Fleur shook her mane of silver tresses back defiantly and returned scathingly.

"Oui. Did you not hear, Hermione? He is in _pain_, Bill. Terrible pain that we are the cause of. He loathes himself because of it. As a result of all that pain and loathing he endangers himself... **himself,.. never** anyone else. He takes his pain and torment and he uses it to wreak havoc upon all ze evil in ze world. In so doing, he az saved countless lives, righted grievous wrongs and given ze world hope for a peaceful and secure future. Zat is not the work of someone who hates. Zat is the essence of someone with a tremendous capacity to love."

Bill's face had the distinctive Weasley hue of red, but still he defended his stance. "You know what people say about him? Decent folk are as afraid of him as dark wizards are."

Fleur shook her head wearily, this was an old argument. "People fear what zay do not understand. Admittedly, Harry has given zem no reason not to fear him. He sees no reason to. It iz entirely our fault, not his. When has anyone ever truly believed 'Arry with an open heart and mind? People are always ready to believe the worst, even of zer greatest heroes." Fleur defended Harry, and then added for good measure.

"He iz ze greatest man I 'ave ever known, Bill. He would move heaven and earth to protect our Willie, whether he was her godfazzer or no."

"Then what does it matter? Why even have wanted to name him Godfather?" Bill asked incredulously.

Fleur had fought her entire family, save for Hermione, for the right to name Harry as her daughter's Godfather. It was still a matter of contention among them even though Harry had settled the matter by denying her request.

"To save em." she returned incredulously. "Willie would provide 'Arry something very precious without even trying."

Bil stared at his wife with a baffled expression.

"A reason to live, Bill." Fleur enlightened him. " 'Arry az nothing and no one, except Hermione, Willie and I. I have no doubt that he love us, but he refuses to let Hermione and I into iz heart az he once did."

"He respects us too much." Hermione added knowingly.

"Respects you? How does shutting anyone out respect them?" Ron asked bewildered.

He and Hermione had formed a strong and loving relationship over the past three years, one that was based on mutual respect, the cornerstone of which was openness. The once clueless Ron had grown into a considerate, attentive man, but compared to Harry…?

"He shows us the utmost respect, Ronald. He does so by protecting Fleur and I from his world, and by honoring our relationships with people that he …" Hermione did not finish her thought out of consideration.

"That he hates." Molly finished.

"Hates? Non." Fleur corrected. "You all are a void in his life and he iz content zat you remain so. He accepts our choice in companions, but does not embrace those choices as he once might have."

After a few moments contemplation, Arthur Weasley redirected everyone's attention to the task at hand.

"We could sit here all day and torture ourselves over what we can never change. I, for one, would like to work on what we can. To do that, we have to be able to establish a rapport with Harry. He's here now. For the first time in over five years he's in Britain. This is our chance to make things right, let's not waste it. We may never get this opportunity again. "

"Most likely not." Hermione agreed. "Harry solves unsolvable cases with lightning efficiency and then he moves on to the next. He's here now, but by the end of the month he could be on the other side of the world. If you're going to do something, anything, then you must do it within the next few weeks. As soon as the Henderson case is solved and that poor family's murderers are brought to justice, Harry will petition the Confederation for reassignment. The very instant the Henderson's killer's cell doors close, he'll find a way to get as far away from you as he can get." she warned them.

"We've got all the time we need; that case is well and truly a 'dead end'. I know Harry's established quite a rep, but nobody's that good. Besides, don't you mean once he's _executed_ the Henderon's killers? " Ron sneered disdainfully.

"Let's face it; if Harry finds the one's responsible for murdering the Henderson Family, they'll never see the inside of a cell. No doubt they'll _conveniently_ resist capture and he'll be forced to defend himself- **lethally.**"

Ron had barely finished his accusation when he found himself staring down the business end of Hermione's and Fleur's wands.

" ' Arry iz not a killer, Ronald. Never suggest such a zing in my presence again. **EVER!"** Fleur warned him. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her Veela hair floated on a nonexistent breeze. The air crackled with energy around her as she fought to keep from cursing her brother in-law. The restraint on her magic was tenuous at best.

"Whoa there, luv." Bill tried to calm his enraged wife. "We all know that Ron has a tendency to talk before he thinks. I'm sure he didn't mean to imply anything..."

"Didn't he?" Hermione interjected venomously. Her own wand remained trained on Ron's forehead. "Who are you to judge Harry, Ron? How many cases did you solve last year? How many did you solve like Harry does; completely **solo**. He's out there on his own, with no back up, trying to bring in the worst sort of fiends imaginable. They all know who he is. They all know Harry's reputation. Of course they fight back. They've got nothing to lose. You heard your dad, he's relentless, unyielding. It's either a lifetime in prison or a death sentence waiting for those Harry tracks down. When he does find them,.. and Merlin knows he will, why go along quietly when you could make a rep for yourself by taking out the arguably most powerful wizard in the world?"

"Hermione, Fleur, please lower your wands?" Arthur Weasley asked politely.

At seeing their reluctance he amended. "You don't know what you're saying Ronald. Harry's file speaks for itself. He's brought in alive almost eighty percent of his arrests. We're not talking about muggle baiting, or drunk and disorderly cases either." Arthur put into perspective the vast difference between auror cases and those Harry tackled.

"We're talking about the worst of the worst. Harry only goes after the absolutely most dangerous scum the wizarding world ashamedly has to offer. I'm convinced, after reading Harry's file that Harry doesn't go out with the intention to execute his suspects. I think it's also safe to say that Harry won't walk away from a fight either.

Merlin sake people?" Arthur pleaded understanding.

"He's a Battle Mage, doesn't that title give you a clue? He's a warrior! A living breathing weapon of vast power and destruction! That's what most people see. That's **all** most people want to see, but he's so much more than that. He's a knight. At twenty-three years old, Harry Potter is a Confederation appointed Knight of the Magical Realm. Unimaginable?- Definitely. Unthinkable?- Certainly. If it were anyone, but Harry, I'd have to agree. Knowing him as we all once did, are any of us surprised? You pointed out his qualities, Hermione. They're exactly the sort that defines a Knight. Only you left out one important one- Pride. Harry is a proud man, and damn well he should be. He's earned it. If his father were alive today, James Potter would be crowing from the rooftop, and he would be entitled to do so. "

Hermione turned away from Ron with a satisfied expression.

"You understand." She acknowledged, nodding toward the Weasley patriarch.

Arthur Weasley nodded his head reassuringly. "There is no greater service, no greater calling in the magical world than to assume the post of a Magical Knight. Remember that all of you." He commanded. "Harry deserves your utmost respect. He will not expect it of you, but he deserves it and **I **expect it of you." Arthur Weasley finished pointedly.

His implication was obvious to all. He would not tolerate anyone according themselves, (where Harry was concerned), with anything less than absolute courtesy.

"H-How are we going to do this though? Ron gulped nervously, eyeing the wand still in his fiancé's hand. "I mean, he's not really all that accessible. He's out in the field. I tried to start up a conversation with him in the hallway?"

"Tried to trap him is more like." Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"And got nowhere, I'd wager." Bill quipped.

"Why should he?" Fleur defended Harry. " ' Arry owes him nothing. Besides you eard your fazer, he is proud. Did you zink zat a few kind words in ze hallway would make it all better?"

"No, I..." Ron denied, but his reddening ears betrayed him.

"Yes, you did." Hermione surmised.

"He wouldn't even talk to me." Ron whined.

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Nothing? He completely ignored you?"

"Well,.. no. He was polite and all, but was really cold. He insisted on calling me Auror Weasley. He was like…"

"Totally professional?" Hermione surmised.

"Yeah." Ron agreed. "He was like all business. Cool and detached." Ron emphasized.

"He was too generous wit you." Fleur stressed, earning herself a glare from Ron that she grinningly ignored.

"All right." Mr. Weasley averted the coming storm. "He at least talked to you, it's more than most of us can claim in the last five years." He continued, ignoring the snort from Fleur's direction.

"We all want him back. We want our missing son and brother returned to us. Things may never be as they once were, but we have to at least try and make amends. We owe it to ourselves and especially to him to try. To do that we have to be able to at least talk to him? To accomplish that end we need to locate him. Now that he's in Britain, where's he staying?" Arthur asked pointedly turning his gaze around the room.

Hermione and Fleur shared the briefest of glances, but too late, Arthur Weasley caught the hint of shared knowledge reflected in their eyes.

"Ladies? " Arthur inquired knowingly, directing his attention to Fleur and Hermione.

The two shared another look, one that eschewed silent agreement.

"No" Hermione answered simply for the both of them.

"No, you don't know, or 'No', you won't say?" Arthur asked in clarification.

"No, we won't say." Fleur corrected.

"We won't betray his trust in us. Not now, not ever." Hermione added coolly.

"I see." Arthur acknowledged with a hint of pride shinning in his eyes. "He is fortunate to have the trust of two such fine women as yourselves." he complimented.

"We are the ones who are fortunate." Fleur corrected him.

"Did he expressly forbid you from revealing his location?" Arthur asked shrewdly.

Hermione quirked an ironic eyebrow. "He doesn't need to, as well you know." She lectured.

"Then please,… please?" Molly Weasley bolted forward and grabbed the two witch's hands, kneeling and pleading to them. "I have to see him. I have to tell him I was wrong. He has to know it was a mistake. A terrible mistake! I'm begging you,.. please?" Molly's tear wrought eyes shifted back and forth between Fleur and Hermione's with such desperate pleading in them.

They paused to share a brief look of resigned sympathy before Hermione answered. "He won't believe you Molly. I don't want to hurt you, but he won't talk to you, especially you. He may possibly talk with…?"

"Hermione!" Fleur hissed warningly, cutting off her friend's eventual suggestion.

"No, Hermione who,… who would Harry see? Please if any of us could possibly…?" Molly began to beg for her to reconsider.

"Ginny." Hermione suggested.

Ginny's hopeful eyes found Hermione's in a heartbeat.

"Non, you should not meddle." Fleur growled angrily. "You gamble with iz heart, his life. She would be ze death of em. You know how he feels." Fleur warned vaguely.

"How- How does he feel?" Ginny dared to ask. Her deep brown eyes pleaded tearfully with Hermione's uncertain ones.

"Non! Non, you have said too much already." Fleur warned Hermione desperately.

Hermione ignored her friend's warning and continued.

"I believe he loves you. He always has. He.." Hermione whispered reverently.

"Mon du! C'est le idiot!" Fleur raged at Hermione, but Hermione ignored her friend's ranting.

She kept her gaze fixed pointedly on Ginny. For the first time since that night, Hermione was proud of Ginny. She had that blazing look in her eyes that she hadn't had since before the night that Harry left.

Seeing that same look in Ginny's eyes, Fleur begged in a near panic.

"Ginny, no. You cannot. He iz not ze same 'Arry zat you once knew." Fleur turned desperately back to Hermione begging her to not reveal Harry's location to Ginny. "You cannot just throw zem together? It would be ze catastrophe!"

"Non! Quickly seeing the resolve in Hermione's eyes, Fleur panicked and bolted for the Burrow's door .

As quick as she was, Ron's auror reflexes gave him an edge and he caught his sister in-law's struggling form at the Burrow door.

"Tell Ginny where he is, 'Mione" Ron barked out trying to keep Fleur from getting away and warning Harry off.

"Non! Non!" Fleur wrenched free from Ron and yanked open the door.

"Good evening. I hope I'm not intruding?" Harry Potter asked pleasantly but with the quirk of a suspicious eyebrow at the melee in progress that greeted him.

" ' Arry?! Fleur seized the advantage of Ron's surprise and threw herself desperately into Harry's frame, clawing free from Ron's clutches.

" Arry, Please? You must go." she begged tearfully.

Harry's eyes blazed, emerald fire. The air supercharged with static electricity. Ron felt himself taking an involuntary step back into the semi protection of his family home.

"What have you done to her?" Harry growled at seeing Fleur's distress he turned his ire on Ron.

"Non, 'Arry." Fleur reassured. She attempted to explain, but the situation was already too tense.

"Hermione, she.." She began to sob, but all he knew was that Fleur was crying in near hysterics and now Hermione was mentioned.

"**What?!" **Harry thundered stepping through the doorway of the home he'd sworn never to set foot in again. One arm was still protectively around Fleur, who was sobbing uncontrollably now. The other hand shot out and hoisted Ron, by his collar, completely off the floor!

Harry held Ron aloft as if he weighed no more than a feather. He shook Ron violently, oblivious to his choking and gagging, threatening him as he did so, "If you've harmed one hair on her head.."

"Harry! It's alright. I'm alright!" Hermione called out in pleadingly in alarm.

Harry tossed Ron aside as if he were no more than a rag doll. The effortless way in which he handled an auror of Ron's size and ability was absolutely frightening. Ron was as no more than a minor inconvenience to him.

Ron collapsed to the floor frothing and gagging as he tried to get his wind.

Harry stepped past him, uncaring, and moved toward Hermione, his eyes wary as they scanned around the room for any conceivable threats, before they settled back on Hermione.

"Hermione what's happened? Why was Ron trying to hurt, Fleur?" Harry still held Fleur protectively under one arm, his other grasped the hilt of his ebony sword in a white knuckled grip.

"Oh,Harry,.. he wasn't. It's complicated. H–He wouldn't hurt, Fleur. I know it looks bad, but really,... everything is fine." she assured him. Her eyes pleaded his understanding.

Reluctantly Harry nodded his acceptance. He swept Fleur's trembling form into his arms and carried her to Bill, gently placing her distraught form in Bill's arms without comment, ignoring his former friend's grateful if stunned expression. Fleur curled protectively into Bill's arms sniffling.

Harry brushed the side of her cheek fondly and then rose and turned calmly toward the rest of the shocked gathering.

His eyes focused on Arthur Weasley's face, completely ignoring the rest of the room.

"I ask your forgiveness for entering your home unannounced and uninvited?" Harry paused uncertainly, with a slight shudder of dread he turned his gaze haltingly toward Molly Weasly.

"My apologies, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry bowed apologetically and then turned to leave. His cape billowed out in a nonexistent wind. He hadn't made it a step before Molly finally found her voice.

"Harry, please? Don't go?" She begged.

"Molly , you're manners! " Arthur hissed in scandalized warning. "Remember to whom you speak?" Arthur rose to his feet and nodded his head toward Harry meaningfully.

"Apology accepted, Lord Knight. You honor us with your presence in our home. Stay and be welcome." Arthur offered with formal graciousness.

Molly followed his example and curtsied as she apologized. "Forgive my manners, Lord Knight. Please, stay. You have been and _always_ will be welcome within these walls."

She couldn't believe it was him. He was so changed. Harry had filled out quite nicely. He'd put on several inches in height and was now nearly as tall as Ron, with a lean muscular look that radiated power and grace. His green eyes were as striking as ever and now that his face had filled out; his once cute face was now roguishly handsome. He was absolutely adorable. Her heart ached for him so. She fought every instinct to grab him up in her arms and never let him go.

"A gracious invitation, but I must decline. I sense that my presence here has already placed you at odds with one another, so I shall be brief and then take my leave. I have a question or two for Messer's Percy and George Weasley." Harry turned formally toward the gapping dou.

"Gentlemen if you we could have a bit of privacy, the other room perhaps, or outside? " Harry suggested in a business like tone.

"Yeah, er,.. Harry.." George began but was interrupted by his father clearing his throat.

"Hmm, hmm. That's Lord Knight, boys." Mr. Weasley interrupted, correcting his sons, throwing Harry an apologetic look.

"Oh, er…, right. If you'll come this way, Lord Knight?" George repeated uncertainly, throwing his brother, (w ho was sniggering), an irate look, as he led Harry toward the Burrows kitchen.

Once inside Harry waved his hand and a _silencing charm_ and an _imperturbable charm_ winked into existence. The pair gapped in shock at his casual use of wandless magic. Harry extracted a small vial from the folds of his cloak. The interior of the vial contained a tiny fragment of what appeared to be glitter.

Harry held the sample out into the light so they could have a better view.

"Do you recognize this substance and can you tell me what it does?" he asked sternly.

The brothers shared a brief look and then George answered. " Paralyzing Pixie Dust" by the look of it. We used it in party favors. When the favors were popped it released the dust and anyone within a three meter range would be temporarily petrified for oh say,.. five minutes, maybe more, depending on their size. Why do you ask?"

Harry ignored the return question. He was not here to play show and tell.

"If it was used on a child, say a little girl, six or seven at most? How long would the effect last?" Harry inquired grimly.

The brothers shared another meaningful look. This time Percy answered Harry's question.

"The effects could last up to twenty minutes or so. Say Harry, what's this all about? " Percy returned impatiently.

Harry's eyes grew cold. "That's Lord Knight to you, gentlemen." He reminded them formally before decreeing.. "By my command, you will immediately cease and desist all production of said product known as 'Paralyzing Pixie Dust' and deliver all remaining stores of said product to the British Ministry for destruction, including the formulae of its conception."

"Are you nutters? George gasped appalled.

"It sells like hot cakes. We've been loaded with so many orders that we can barely keep up. " Percy added in alarm at the potential loss of revenue.

"I'm sure." Harry acknowledged grimly. "Never the less, I expect delivery in total of said product, it's formulae and all shipping manifests including owl orders for said product in the past six months, or it's date of release on the market, whichever is less."

"And if we refuse?" George puffed himself up indignantly, his brother shouldering up next to him in a show of unity.

Harry quirked an skeptical eyebrow "Then you will leave me no choice but to order the closure of all Weasley Wizarding Wheezes enterprises, the seizure of any and all products of a potentially harmful nature, the levying of subsequent fines for all harmful products that are discovered therein, including the Pixie Dust, and last but certainly not least, charges of accessory to rape of an adult and child and several counts of accessory torture and murder of two adults and three minors. Is that preferable to you over the leniency of my original order to relinquish your stores and manifests of said dangerous product?" Harry extorted with a practiced ease in an accusatory tone.

Percy and George blanched a sickly shade of green, realizing the seriousness of Harry's demands.

"W-Why are you doing this Harry? You could at least tell us that, for Circe's sake? We're losing a fortune here." George whined.

Harry shook his head bitterly. "Will you never learn? Very little that truly matters is about gold, you of all people should understand that?" He drew reference to their impoverished upbringing. "I had thought to spare your conscious this, but I see that you fail to trust even the command of a knight."

Harry finished his admonishment than pressed forward with cruel precision.

"Said 'pixie dust' was used to incapacitate the Henderson family while they were victimized by person or persons unknown. The parents watched in paralyzed helplessness while their children, two lovely young witches, age six and eight, were raped and tortured before the children were then likewise immobilized while the perpetrators raped and tortured their mother to death. The daughters were then killed before their father, and finally, Mr. Henderson died of heart failure, a result of the trauma and horror he bore witness too. Is that reason enough for you two to comply with my directions in this matter?" Harry asked with detached professionalism.

George nodded his head dumbly; his brother tearfully did the same.

Harry's countenance softened slightly as he added before leaving the kitchen. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for your financial hardship in this matter. It is not my wish to bring any more hardship of any nature onto this family, as I think we can quite agree that I have done enough in that regard already. Good day, gentlemen." Harry turned away briskly before they could comment.

Harry considered vacating the premises by way of the kitchen door, rather than face the discomfiture that his presence would illicit in the other room. Telling himself that he owed them at least the benefit of professional courtesy, he steeled his resolve and entered the Burrow's living room, canceling the charms, he'd previously placed on the kitchen, as he went through the door.

Fleur was still sitting in Bill's lap, no longer crying but still visibly shaken. Ron had pulled himself up from the floor, or Charlie had, and said brother was patting his shaken brother's shoulders reassuringly. Hermione remained standing by the fireplace, the hint of another person's form; one that he'd rather not contemplate, was just behind her.

Ginny was no doubt hiding from him and who could blame her. He helped in the murder of her friends and brother as surely if he'd cast the spells himself.

Harry took a hesitant step forward toward Mr. Weasley, who remained seated next to his wife.

_The man actually had the graciousness to smile encouragingly to __**him**__, the very man who'd gotten his son killed?!_

Harry bowed his head regretfully. "Again, I apologize for the rudeness of my entrance and my subsequent actions thereafter. If you or Mr. R. Weasley should be so inclined as to formally press charges against me for my actions here today, I will not contest your accounts nor shall I call upon a _Knight's privilege_. I am heartily sorry for the disruption that my presence has caused within your home and shall remove myself forthwith. Good day to you, sir and madam."

Harry turned on his heel, mindful to not do so too rapidly, lest his cape billow out and startle the Weasley parents.

Arthur began to rise to call him back, but was beaten to it by his youngest child.

"Harry?" Ginny called out softly.

Harry paused in mid-step. He'd almost made it out the door, _almost._

Ginny had found her flagging courage and hesitantly stepped out from behind Hermione's sheltering shadow. She could see his back go rigid in recognition of her voice. If she could see his face, she would be able to see the desperate look of longing warring with his deep set pain of unearned quilt and bone numbing loneliness.

From their vantage point, Charlie and Ron could see Harry face. What they saw there was heart rending.

Stiffly, Harry gathered his resolve and took another hesitant step toward the exit.

"Harry, please?" Ginny pleaded.

Trembling, Harry chanced a glance in her direction.

_Merlin, she's so beautiful._

Ginny's hair was shoulder length and framed her face in waves of radiant auburn. Her figure was more mature, well rounded, but athletic thanks to her quidditch playing. Harry had followed her progress with the Harpies from day one. He was a huge fan, in more ways than one. A light sprinkling of freckles dusted across her tiny nose. He once dreamed of spending a lifetime counting her freckles- all of them. Her deep brown eyes held a hint of that blazing fire that so defined her.

_She was breathtaking._

"Harry?"Ginny asked hesitantly again, only now with a touch of amusement in her voice emboldened by his preoccupation as he stared mesmerized.

_IDIOT! _ Coming out of his stupor, Harry realized that he'd been gapping at her like a fawning first year.

Hermione's head had been swiveling back and forth between the two during the entire confrontation. She'd expected a reaction; Some hesitation in the voice, a coy glance, etc.. but this?

_WOW! _

_**Go-Ginny-GO!**_ Hermione just became her second biggest fan.

Hermione watched in desperate hopefulness as Ginny took a hesitant step toward Harry's, now shuddering form.

"Harry… I..." Ginny whispered achingly.

Arthur and Molly Weasley watched in awe as Ginny's mere presence overpowered the arguably most powerful wizard in the world.

Ginny was almost within reach. Hermione could see a tear trailing down from the corner of Harry's left eye.

Ginny's hand reached ever so slowly toward Harry's shoulder.

_If I could just have him in my arms? _She prayed to any deity that might possibly listen.

"Harry..." Ginny cooed softly. It was a balm to his soul.

_**GO- GINNY- GO! **_Hermione cheered silently

"No, Ginny." Harry pulled away from her reaching grasp.

_NO- HARRY-NO! _Hermione wailed silently in unheard disappointment.

"I'm death, Ginny. There is no future with death, only pain and despair. Forget you ever knew me." Harry shied away from her reaching embrace and stepped through the Burrow's door. If he heard her parting words than he never responded to it.

"N-Never" Ginny collapsed to her knees in tears of desperate longing.

_So close._

Hermione's comforting arms encircled her small shoulders as she sobbed out her despair_._

"Bugger me." Ron gasped in stunned surprise.

_She'd __nearly__ done it_.

"Bugger me."

"Maybe later." Charlie snorted next to him, earning himself a rude gesture from his youngest brother.

"Boys" Molly admonished them as she passed and knelt down to her, now seated, daughter and future daughter in law.

She pulled them into her arms and cooed softly, reassuringly. "Don't give up on him , luv. There's nothing of death about him. That man's filled with love and all of it's for you. Don't give up on him" Molly pleaded.

"N-Never." Ginny promised tearfully.


	4. Chapter 4: The Blood Stone

**Disclaimer:I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.**

**Chapter Four: The Blood Stone**

It was two days since the day of Harry's ill fated visit to the Burrow. Ginny had been a right mess the rest of Sunday afternoon. As much as Hermione's heart went out to her, it ached that much more for Harry's sake.

Ginny was the answer to Harry's wounded soul, and the majority of the reason for it being wounded as well. Harry was the true victim here. Granted, he could make things a lot easier for both of them, but he had no reason to either. Easy- was just not Harry's way of doing things of a personal nature.

Hermione had waited two days out of respect for Harry's feelings, but she could wait no longer. At the end of her endless work day, she would make a trip out to the _unplottable_ and _Fidelus_ protected Potter Estate to check on her friend,.. and give him a much needed nudge in the right direction.

Harry had finally come home, and Hermione meant to keep him here. In truth, though they remained close friends, her heart would never be whole until she, Ron and Harry were together again. Admittedly; Ron was a work in progress and Harry was as complicated at the best of times, but she had hope for them all. The 'Golden Trio' was more than a moniker to identify three of the magical world's elite adventurers. It was the designation of three friends who not only triumphed time and again over impossible odds, but did so out of there great love and respect for one another. They were a family, one that had been torn asunder with Harry's forced banishment.

She wanted her family whole again. She wanted her dream. It was the dream of all of them, really. They had planned to share their lives together. Grow old raising their children together. Voldemort's death was never supposed to be their end; it was only suppose to be the beginning.

As Hermione watched the clock in her small office at the D.O.M.( Dept. of Mysteries), Harry rubbed his tired, non-spectacled eyes and took a break from the ancient tome he'd been pouring over. Harry had forgone his spectacles prior to his mage training and submitted to curative potion therapy.

The potions used to correct his eyes had cost a small fortune, were vile to the taste and had caused pain beyond endurance. The potions physically altered the size and shape of his eyes to correct his refraction thus eliminating his short sightedness- permanently. It had felt as if someone with Bellatrix Lestrange like cruelty had worked on his eyeballs with pliers.

The cost had been inconsequential as Harry had inherited the Potter fortune on his seventeenth birthday. Despite his immense wealth, the cost of the potions had actually made a scratch in his wallet which wasn't even a scratch in the Potter fortune, but that was beside the point. After days on agony, Harry had serious misgivings about the procedure. Now, it seemed like the best ten thousand galleons he'd ever spent.

Harry had spent the past day and a half researching ancient tomes of magical lore whose information concerned magical artifacts, both established and legendary artifacts.

The Henderson crime scene had revealed little, other than the Paralyzing Pixie Dust he'd discovered after casting literally hundreds of _revealus charms . _The dust's origins had been easy enough to trace to the Weasleys. While intriguing, the dust itself was no more than a tool, or a weapon used in the case. One he hoped might give him a direction toward those that had perpetrated the insidious crime. The confederation was following the paper trail of orders place for quantities of the Dust. Hopefully the next day or two would provide the a lead on a potential suspect or two.

Having had the Weasley brothers take the dust off the market had been the right thing to do. Its unintended potential as a debilitating weapon made it too dangerous to be allowed available to the public sector as a mere party favor. The M.L.E. S. (Ministerial Law Enforcement Squad) and the confederation both recognized the potential application for the product, (tactfully pointed out by a well placed word or two of endorsement from Harry). It had great potential for apprehension of suspects, crowd control, prisoner transfer, ect..

What had originally been a major financial loss for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, would undoubtedly turn into a profit windfall with the potential to make them an absolute fortune in defense contracts.

The only thing he had asked of his delighted superiors was that they keep his name out of it. He felt that he owed them something, but he in no way wanted to give the impression that he was interested in renewing ties.

His life was his now. He'd made his choice and while perhaps he wasn't exactly _happy_, he was at least content.

Harry had spent the afternoon at Potter Estate, recovering from the emotional turmoil that resulted from his ill conceived trip to the Weasley home. His reputation for relentless pursuit of justice had its drawbacks. The next time he would think before overzealously following a clue, such as the Pixie Dust.

The Henderson family business had been that of affluent tradesmen of ancient and rare antiquities. Unlike Borgin and Burkes the Henderson family never dabbled in dark objects, never. Their reputation in wizarding world trade circles was sterling- and deservedly so.

The family had no known enemies. No competitor's who held a grudge. No rivalries within the family. The crime was not one of passion, nor was it a standard burglary gone awry.

The parents and daughters had been painstakingly and methodically tortured. Perpetrators only undertook such heinous acts to elicit information. They were after either an object or information that would lead them to something valuable, something extremely valuable given their disgusting tenacity.

He couldn't be sure, but it was most likely that Mr. Henderson had not known what the perpetrators were after. No man would have been able to take watching his wife and children brutalized in the fashion that they were without breaking. Either that, or Mr. Henderson had considered their sacrifice the lesser of two evils by comparison to the potential dangerousness of whatever it was that his murderers had sought.

There had been no need to destroy the family. The perpetrators had only done so for two reasons; One; to make absolutely sure that Henderson was not holding back any information. Two; they enjoyed murdering, so much so that they had taken the lives of their lovely daughters. For that alone; Harry had pledged himself to finding the murderous vermin responsible. When he did, he fervently hoped they resisted arrest, or better still, chose to fight.

The only other clue the crime scene held was a page torn from Henderson's trade ledger. _Revealus charms_ had proven ineffective in trying to establish what information the ledger's missing page had contained. Harry has tried another, somewhat primitive method of investigation. It had proven worthwhile.

Harry used the side of a pencil to shade the page beneath the ledger's missing page. As he had hoped, the writing on the missing page had left a slight indentation in the page beneath that the shading had a least partially revealed.

It listed several items of exchange. Some were bits and pieces having once belonged to the founders, ie.. Griffyndor's quill, a brush that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, ect..

A curious entry toward the bottom mentioned the acquisition of a ring belonging to the Great Merlin . The ledger read:

Merlin Emerys- Ring, Silver-Blood Stone with emeralds. 

Acquired: 3 August, 2000. Disposed: _

The missing ledger raised several questions. Of primary interest at this point was what exactly is a _blood stone_, and why on earth would anyone want to destroy an object that had once belonged to the Great Merlin. The only answer to the latter was that whatever it was, it was beyond dangerous in the wrong hands. Thus the former was the true clue to the mystery, ie.. the blood stone ?

Researching the origins of a blood stone had proven, thus far, as elusive as finding information on Nicholas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone, (the Golden Trio's first year at Hogwarts).

It was in this same spot that Hermione, Ron and himself had spent countless hours searching for mention of the Sorcerer's Stone and Nicholas Flamel. It was in this spot that Harry now searched alone with a nagging sense of déjà vu and unshakable melancholy.

Unlike the first time, this time he had permission to use the Restricted Section, however, like the first time, thus far his search had proven fruitless.

His reunion with the Hogwart's headmistress was bittersweet. Minerva McGonagal appeared utterly shocked by his appearance at her office door. Shock had melded to delight, which had quickly turned to bitterness over his abandoning what McGonagal had coined "You're complete and utter abandonment of a relationship that was based on mutual respect, trust and consideration. I, for one, had considered our friendship priceless on the whole. You've disappointed me greatly, Mr. Potter. While I do not consider your reasons for having left without merit at the time, I do not hold you blameless for your reluctance to respond to my overtures these past several years. You could have at least sent a card now and again, Harry."

He had completely and utterly been ashamed. She was right. He had abandoned friends who were and had remained loyal to him. He had much to atone for.

He may have chosen a life of duty and obligation, however that did not preclude him being a responsible friend, let alone adult wizard.

Harry's eyes drifted to his watch. It was gone five in the afternoon. It was time to start atoning.

Harry pushed back the stack of open books in front of him. Cast an imperturbable charm over the area, (to ensure his privacy), and rose smoothly from the weathered oak table. He intended to enjoy the evening, as he had the previous day; in the company of two highly respected, _mature _and learned witches that was his pleasure to escort to dinner this evening.

Hermione apparated to the front door of the Potter Estate and rapped several times with the Lion's head clapper mounted on the door frame.

The enormous iron fortified oak door opened smoothly without the slightest creek. It like the rest of Potter Estate was meticulously cared for.

"Mistress 'Mione ! " Hermione had barely registered the greeting when she felt tiny arms encircle her leg in an iron gripped hug.

"Hello, Kreacher." Hermione responded warmly she patted the elf's many capped head affectionately.

"Can I speak to Harry, please?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Kreacher reluctantly released his hold on her leg and stepped back shaking his head. His bat like ears flapped back and forth across his head "No, Miss. Master Harry is not in this evening. Kreacher has not seen his good master for two days now." Kreacher replied dolefully.

"Did he say where he was going?" Hermione inquired hopefully.

Kreacher's eyes grew wide in acknowledgement but he refused to answer. "Kreacher cannot say, Miss. Master Harry is working."

"Hmm, but you said he's not been home in two days. He must be out of the country then, or he would return home. I mean. the man must sleep somewhere?" Hermione surmised puzzled.

"Not out of the country, miss." Kreacher clarified with a wink. This was an old game between the two. Kreacher never betrayed Harry's privacy, at least not really. He did, however, **reassure** Hermione at times.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow in a skeptical fashion.

"Not out of the England itself?" she narrowed the field down.

Kreacher shook his head, sending his ears to flapping.

"Scotland, then." Hermione surmised. "Hogwarts!" Hermione gasped in sudden understanding.

"I'm sorry to run off, Kreacher, but I have this sudden urge to visit headmistress, McGonnagal." Hermione apologized as she headed for the boundary of the anti-apparation wards.

"Kreacher understands, Miss. Good luck, Miss." Kreacher called after her with a delighted, toothy grin.

Harry was just finishing his soup when caretaker Argus Filch, the old git, stomped up to the table and interrupted the byplay between Headmistress McGonagal an Poppy Pomfrey.

"We have **another** unexpected visitor, headmistress. " He announced stressing his words meaningfully at Harry's expense.

Harry chose to ignore the man. He'd settle for giving his cat, Mrs. Norris, a good kick in the hindquarters later.

"Please show him in, Argus. " McGonagal directed.

"It's a **her**, mum." Filch corrected.

Harry's eyebrow went up suspiciously. "Who is she?"

"Oh, a former student, I believe. " Filch responded vaguely before adding. "I believe you may have made her acquaintance. She's a former Head Girl, though not when you still attended, if memory serves." Filch finished coyly.

Harry's face darkened like a summer storm.

"Redhead or brunette?" He asked coldly.

"_Bushy brown_, I believe was the common description for that hair type then" Filch smirked.

A smile ghosted across McGonagal's face at seeing Harry's expression regarding Ms. Granger's unexpected arrival. "See our visitor in please, Mr. Filch."

She couldn't be sure, but she could almost swear she saw Harry tremble faintly in response to her invitation. _Strange that_.

Harry returned to his meal with a gusto that was reminiscent of his former friend, Ronald Weasley. He patently ignored the click of his friend's approaching heels as she crossed the Hall's flagstone floor.

McGonagal rose expectantly and greeted her former favorite student warmly. "Good Evening Ms. Granger, we seem to be hosting a rather unexpected reunion of sorts. I don't suppose Mr. Ronald Weasley, will be joining us as well, that would make for a pat hand? "

McGonagal chanced a glance toward Harry, making note of his slight pause in eating at the mention of his former friend.

_Interesting._

"Er,. No, Ron won't be coming, at least not to my knowledge. It is a pleasure to see you headmistress and you too, Madam Pomfrey."

"Such formality." McGonagal tisked. "We should be on a first name basis, Hermione. I insist that you call me Minerva from now on. " McGonagal swept her hand toward Harry. " Of course, you all ready are acquainted with our other quest, Mr. Potter."

Taking his cue, Harry nodded stiffly without raising his eyes from his plate.

"Hermione" he acknowledged foramally.

Hermione's face fell slightly at Harry's cool acknowledgment, but she continued undaunted.

"Harry, I was wondering if we could talk a bit?" She inquired.

Harry paused as if considering, though he had already set his mind against any such encounter from the moment Filch announced her arrival.

"I'm afraid not." He declined. "I have a great deal of research to do this evening and little time to waste."

"Nonsense" McGonagal intervened. "Surely you can spare a moment for an old friend?"

Harry shot the headmistress a glare as he addressed Hermione bitingly.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"Manners, Mr. Potter." McGonagal warned. "I expect a degree of civility from visitors to the castle. It is my understanding that Knights are known for chivalry, are they not?" She admonished.

Harry nodded. "My apologies to you headmistress and to you too, Hermione." Before Hermione could seize the opportunity she thought he afforded her, he repeated with feigned civility.

"What would you care to discuss this evening, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione tucked a stray hair behind her ear to stall as she considered her next words.

"No offence intended to the headmistress or to Madam Pomfrey, but I think our conversation requires a bit more privacy?"

Harry feigned surprise. "Really? I can think of nothing that would require such discretion. Please, continue."

Hermione paused, biting her lower lip uncertainly. "Is this where you want to discuss what happened at the Burrow on Sunday?"

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "There is nothing about my brief, if impromptu, visit to the Burrow during my investigation that requires any discussion." Harry intoned in a frank and open manner that clearly said that the topic was not open for discussion.

"You visited the Weasleys, how nice." McGonagal joined winningly. "I'm so glad that you've all resolved you're issues."

Harry turned to the headmistress with an incredulous look. "There are no **issues **with the Weasleys that require any resolution. Quite the contrary, I whole heartedly agree with and support their views as originally stated." Harry rose from the table smoothly.

"If you ladies will excuse me, I have research waiting. " Harry bowed formally and left the Hall before anyone could offer a word of rebuttal.

"I take it there's been a development? Something happened this Sunday last?" McGonagal surmised.

"Ginny happened." Hermione offered vaguely, but smiling wickedly.

"Ah, in that case.." McGonagal nodded her understanding, "I believe you'll find he's gone to the library, Hermione." McGonagal offered in support.

Hermione flashed her an appreciative smile. "Thank you,... Minerva."

McGonagal sighed smiling as she retook her seat next to Poppy Pomfrey.

"It would appear that young Ms. Weasley has got him on the run, Minnie?" Poppy Pomfrey chided.

"My thoughts exactly, Poppy. It's about time to."

Poppy nodded her head knowingly. "It'll be nice to have him around more often."

"One can never tell where Mr. Potter is concerned, but personally, I'm with you. I wouldn't bet against Ms. Weasley and that lovely temper and tenacity of hers."

The two friends finished their meal chuckling softly on the topic.

Hermione entered the library without hesitation. Harry may be a knight, but he was on her battlefield now. She scanned the room, finding him hunched over several volumes in the 'Restricted Section' of the library.

At seeing her self- assured approach toward him, Harry cast a quick _obfuscate_ charm over the material in front of him. Hermione's natural curiosity had not diminished over the years, quite the contrary.

"Can I speak to you?" she asked confidently.

"It would appear so." Harry returned with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

Hermione re-tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "About Sunday?"

"Nice weather that day, very mild, temperate for this time of year." Harry chided smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I won't just let it go, you know?" She warned with forced calmness.

Now Harry rolled his eyes. "Like you ever have before?" he returned with a long suffering tone. "What exactly is your point already, Hermione?" he continued wearily.

"My point is that you still love her, and she loves you, you git. Be with her. Be with us. It's where you belong. Mistakes were made, I know, but,… there's no reason that we all can't reconcile and move forward, if for no other reason than for yours and Ginny's sakes."

Harry just sat there, staring at her with the most unreadable expression on his face. After several anxious minutes of fidgeting, she could take it no longer and pressed.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he returned vacantly.

"What's your answer?" Hermione huffed.

"I hadn't realized that you asked a question." Harry responded nonchalantly.

_He was infuriating when he was like this._

"You know very well what I'm asking of you? You also know what I want and what I expect. Please, Harry, not just for hers but for your own sake…?"

Harry held up a hand to forestall her. "Let's say for the sake of argument that you even have a point here, not that I think you do, but for the sake of argument let's say that you do?" He spoke to her in an unsettling, condescending manner that raised her hackles.

"I don't love, Ginny. Even if I did, there would be no point to it." He began.

"No point! How can you sit there and so calmly claim there's no point?" Hermione interrupted incredulously.

"Hello,.. Battle Mage here. Confederation Knight- remember?" He waved his hand before her eyes to get her attention.

"My duty is to the magical realm. Not to a single person, not even to myself. Any possible consequences of the heart are wholly secondary to my duty to the realm. I am not free to indulge idly any romantic notions that should exist- which they don't." He finished with a stubborn set to his jaw that she knew well.

"What a load of shi…"

"Hermione?!" Harry cut her off in surprise. Upon further scrutiny, he could plainly see that she was winding herself up for a first rate rant and decided to head her off as best he could.

"Listen, 'Mione, there's nothing to reconcile with the Weasley family. While I admit I found their opinion shocking at first, I've come to see some grain of truth in it and to an extent; even appreciate the insight they've afforded me. I am, for all intents and purposes, the 'Hand of Death'. Being around me always has and will prove to be a death sentence for anyone."

CRACK

Hermione's hand left a stinging imprint on the side of Harry's face.

"You are not **death**, damn you." Hermione hissed in fury.

"You are the embodiment of everything that is good and right in this world and I refuse to sit here and listen to you spew that tripe. You are the most courageous, most honorable person I have ever known. I defy anyone to say otherwise, even you."

Harry sighed. "Just because you don't like the message, Hermione, doesn't make it any less true. People get killed being around me…"

CRACK

"Stop It." She warned having slapped his other cheek. "You have always strived to protect others. You save lives. You don't take them."

Harry shot her a dubious look of reproof as he clarified..."But I do, Hermione. I have and I will again. I have become that which Molly Weasley so aptly labeled me. I hold no ill will toward the Weasleys for having merely put to words what the rest of the general public already assumed to be true. People get dead around me."

CRACK

"Hermione..?" Harry tried to reason with her, but he did not try to stop her. "Please, listen? You know that on some level, what I'm saying is tru…"

CRACK

"Hermione,.. please?"

CRACK

"Don't Harry. Just.. don't." Hermione warned. She left her hand in the air in obvious challenge for him to dare refute her again.

Tears welled at the corners of her beautiful brown eyes, hurting him as much as her.

"How can you possibly believe such a thing about yourself? How can you sit there and spew such utter nonsense? People admire and revere you. People love you, Harry. Though you choose to ignore it, people do love you. The Weasley's love you. McGonagal, Poppy, Luna, Neville and a hundred other friends- all love you. I love you. You are precious to me, Harry. What you believe,.. it's not true. Don't you see? I couldn't love you if it was true, and I do love you. You're my best friend and I love you with all my heart." The tears that had been threatening at the corners of her eyes fell in a torrent.

She ignored all else, save the man in front of her.

"I-I don't want to hurt you, 'Mione." Harry pleaded sincerely shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

"Then stop this madness. Come back to us. Come back to the people who love you. Ginny's waiting for you. Her heart's never given up on you and it never will. I know you feel the same and,.. I envy her for it."

Harry's shocked eyes raised to meet hers.

Hermione smirked in remembrance of another time. "Yes Harry, once upon a time there was a bushy haired teenage 'know- it- all' that had two wonderful friends, and she was loved both of them as friends and at times... were so alike in so many ways, and yet so different in others. Both were kind and courageous. Both so full of love, only the one's love was for his family and friends; the others' was for the world and all those other things that most of us take for granted. His love was a raging inferno that frightened her with the depth and intensity of it. She knew that she could never fill that heart, not entirely. Not the way it deserved to be filled. Not like the way **Ginny** could.

Ginny has that same heart; a raging inferno that knows no end. Only her heart burns not for the world, but for him and him alone. The bushy haired teenage 'know- it- all' chose the love of the friend who loved her and her alone. It was a love she could understand and return. It gave her a sense of security and completeness. Part of here will always wonder what could have been, but another part of her, the bigger part, rejoices in her decision. It was the right decision. One that provided her with the love of a good man and also the love of a great man whom she can still call her best friend,… her brother. One day, when he wakes up, he really will be her brother."

Harry stared wide eyed at her, speechless for several minutes. When he finally did find his voice, it was the merest of whispers.

" She.. can't.. love .. me?" He murmured apprehensively.

"She **does** love you." Hermione reassured.

"She's so out of my league. She's gorgeous and I'm just..?"

"You're adorable." Hermione smiled knowingly. His resolve was melting. _Merlin, I wish Ginny were here. _

Harry quirked an eyebrow and answered disdainfully. "Adorable all right? I'm about as adorable as a coiled snake or an enraged hippogriff."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione scathed in exasperation. "You're so clueless it's pathetic. Those eyes of yours are a magic all themselves. Unruly hair that's just begging a woman to run her fingers thru it. You've got a physique that's to die for. You exude confidence and sex appeal from every pore of your oh- so- muscular body, and that's just the outside. What's inside you, when you're not wallowing in self pity, puts the outside package to shame. You're infinitely patient, courageous, kind, loving and gentle. In short Harry, you're the catch of a lifetime. Ginny would be a fool not to want you, and I can assure you, Ginny's no fool."

Harry was blushing furiously at this point, but he still wasn't entirely convinced.

"Even if everything you say is true, she wouldn't want me? I'm a killer. I've got blood on my hands."

CRACK

"Are you listening to me?" Hermione asked in a threatening tone. "You are not a killer. You are not death. You are life and hope. You're a hero, Harry. You're probably the greatest hero the magical world has ever known."

Harry sniggered at this.

"Believe what you like, but it's true. If you can't believe that, than believe this; you and Ron are my **heroes**, but you're Ginny's **hero, **hers and hers alone. You always have been and you always will be."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I saw her face that night. It wasn't a hero that I saw reflected in her eyes,… it was a monster. They we're right to drive me away. I'll never be anything more than a monst- **urg!**"

**Wumph!**

This time Hermione didn't slap him, but punched him right in the teeth with such force that Harry's head actually snapped back and his eyes went out of focus briefly.

She waited until his eyes cleared and when she was certain that he was totally aware again she loomed over him rubbing her bleeding knuckles in a pointed fashion as she hissed.

"Don't ever let me hear you utter that rubbish again. Not as long as you live,.. **do you hear me**?" She hissed with deadly resolve.

Harry shook his head dejectedly. "You can beat me bloody and it won't change a thing, Hermione. It's no better than I deserve anyway."

Seeing her hand raise warningly he quickly amended, raising his hands in surrender. "But… in the interest of peace, I won't say it again if it offends you so much."

"Promise me?" Hermione pressed.

"Okay."

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Say it, Harry." she pressed in warning.

"I promise."

"Much better- thank you." Hermione returned in pleased satisfaction.

"Harry..?" She paused choosing her words carefully. "Molly and Arthur asked me to invite you to the Burrow for dinner next Saturday night. Please say you'll come?" Hermione all but pleaded.

"A gracious offer, please express my appreciation and my regrets." he responded cordially.

Hermione's face fell in abject disappointment. "Surely you can afford to take off a single evening to have a relaxing dinner with friends?" she admonished him.

"That's not it at all. " Harry returned incredulously as he went through the motions of packing up his work for the evening. "Actually I had planned on catching a quidditch match that night."

"Oh- pfft." Hermione scoffed." You can watch quidditch any old time. I'm sure Ginny will be there for dinner." Hermione teased shrewdly.

She was disappointed by his non-committal shrug as he made to leave the library.

"I doubt it…. The Harpies are playing this Saturday night." Harry commented knowingly as he swept out of the library.

Hermione goggled at the door he'd just left by.

_Go-Ginny-Go! _

* * *

Ginny Weasley paced the Harpies locker room nervously. Actually, she was beyond nervous. She'd just played the game of her life and should be out celebrating with her teammates as they did after every big win. The difference in her attitude was due to two things.

Firstly; the inspiration for tonight's record breaking performance could be attributed to one particular thing- Harry was in the audience tonight.

She had been skeptical when Hermione had suggested that Harry would be going to the game tonight, but oddly, as soon as she had entered the pitch she knew Hermione was right. She could feel Harry's eyes on her during the entire match. It had spurred her on to new heights in scoring.

Secondly; Ginny was hoping against hope that Harry would visit her in person after the game. With that in mind, she had shunned all offers of celebration from her teammates.

A tentative knock at the locker room door tore her from her pensive thoughts.

Ginny all but flew to the door and threw it open, only to be disappointed at finding no one waiting beyond.

Her disappointed turned hopeful at seeing a long thin box with her name on it- lying on the empty hallway floor.

She scooped up the delicately wrapped package and with trembling fingers she slipped the bow tie and lifted the box lid.

A single pure white rose lie in a nest of greenery.

"H-Harry…" Ginny stammered out in whispered reverence.

The first and only flower that Harry ever gave her was a single white rose.

She lifted the rose to her nose and gently inhaled its fragrance. Beneath the rose she found a small card with only two words inscribed upon it: _**An** **Admirer**_

_Oh Harry…._

It wasn't what she was hoping for this night, but, it would do…

* * *

Hogwarts library had held up to its reputation as being the finest in Europe, if not the world. After three days of careful searching, Harry had found the information he was looking for in a moldy old tome in the restricted section that was called: _**Deadly Artifacts**_

**The Bloodstone: **Of all the dark artifacts listed within this tome, one sinks below the rest in the depths of its potential foulness-the **bloodstone.**

This gem is not the shade of blood as one might guess, but is in fact black as the depth of the despair to which the gates of hell are breeched by the use of this gem.

Created by Morgana Lefay and gifted to her bastard son-Mordred for the dread purpose of resurrection of the consciousness of one departed.

As all practitioners of magic well know, "no magic can bring back the dead" at least not in complete body, mind and soul.

Necromancy can raise the body of the dead, such as _Imferi _and _Zombies_. Mindless, soulless shells of their once former existence, these creatures are but decaying automatons.

The **blood stone**, however, returns the consciousness of one departed to the land of the living. That soul is housed co-commitently along with the consciousness of its host body. One consciousness usually becomes dominant, however , the life knowledge of both is readily available to either and the magical core of both remains intact, housed within a single host body, effectively **doubling** both magical reserves and power level.

Though no historical proof exists, scholars have long since hypothesized that after having been dispatched by her long time enemy-Merlin, Morganna Le Fey was resurrected by her son Mordred thru the use of the **blood stone. **Their combined magical powers and experience would explain how a relative novice, such as Mordred, could have dispatched a wizard of Merlin's caliber, before having been ultimately destroyed by King Arthur via the magic of his fabled sword-**Excalibur.**

Harry slammed the tome close in disgust. _ Merlin above! Has some idiot actually done the unthinkable and sacrificed themselves to return a damned soul?_


	5. Chapter 5: Financial Dealings

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Five: Financial Dealings**

It had taken several days but the Weasley's brothers had come through as he knew they would. Harry had counted on Percy's meticulous nature, (in that he would keep cruelly honest records of all transactions).

There had been several notable buyers of 'Paralyzing Pixie Dust' in the months preceding the attack on the Henderson family. The confederation had closely scrutinized several overseas buyers and had found all to be reputable agencies, all except one; the suspiciously now defunct, New Delhi Trading Corp.

Further investigation had revealed the New Delhi Trading was actually a front, or 'dummy' corporation. It never existed as anything more than a glorified post box. Digging deeper still, it was learned that New Delhi had received other goods of a highly questionable nature, most notably-muggle explosives. Those dealings, though well covered, left a paper trail one that led to a supposedly unregistered account in Gringotts that had provided the capital for several of these mysterious purchases.

It was at Gringotts that Harry took up the trail of his investigation.

Harry Potter strode confidently though the white marbled walls of the Wizarding world's greatest financial institution, his night black uniform in complete contrast to his surroundings.

He ignored the startled gasps and shocked stares of others as he made his way to an open teller. It had taken time and infinite patience, but he was now used to the public's response to his appearance among them. He didn't relish such attention, but he had grown used to it.

Harry stepped before an aged teller with a pinched drawn expression. The teller peered distastefully at him over his half moon eye glasses, with a look of barely contained loathing that Harry found rather surprising, considering the good rapport he had always maintained with the goblins in his previous dealings.

"May I help you?" The goblin sneered almost contemptuously. If Harry didn't know better he'd have sworn the creature had Malfoy blood in his ancestry.

"I'm Harry Pot…"

"I'm well aware of your identity, sir. Did you actually want something or were you just planning to waste my time with needless introductions?" The aged teller ground out irritably, cutting him off.

"I'm here in an official capacity as a representative of the Confederation of Wizards. Would one of your supervisors be available to answer some questions regarding some rather questionable transactions that have come to our attention?" Harry returned with polite professionalism, though he secretly wanted to wring the rude little creature's wrinkled neck.

"We at Gringotts are in the business of making money, not providing information. There is no profit in such a distraction. Our financial transactions are all handled with the utmost of discretion and as such, their details are not available to public scrutiny. The Confederation is a **wizarding** legal system and as such, the goblin nation is not subject to its wants and whims. If you are quite finished wasting my precious time, I bid you good day.-NEXT!"

Once the foul little creature had finished lecturing, he sought to dismiss Harry out of hand. Apparently a new tact was required,… one that would surely get the greedy little goblins attention.

"My apologies for wasting your time, good sir." Harry returned mockingly, eliciting a toothy growl of displeasure from the rude teller. "As you are in the business of financial transactions, then I have one for you that I would like for you to see to both personally and expediently."

"All of our transactions are handled with expedience." The goblin shot back haughtily.

"What is the nature of the desire transaction? Some silver exchanged for knuts perhaps?" The goblin insulted with condescending air.

Harry withdrew several vault keys from the pouch at his right hip. Keys that readily caught the goblin's attention as to the prestigious accounts they belonged.

Harry fixed the goblin with a steely glare as he demanded. "I find my dealings here today as less than satisfactory and as such wish to immediately withdraw all funds from my trust vault, the Potter vault, the Black vault and of course, the Griffyndor vaults. All monies are to be exchanged for American dollars, at current exchange rates and the monies then transferred to my personal account at Chase Manhattan in New York. I expect all familial heirlooms, precious jewels, magical weapons and the like, that are contained within my vaults, to be handled with the utmost care and discretion as they are transferred to Swiss International. Lastly, all holdings and properties, exclusive of Potter Manor in Godric's Hollow, are to be made available for public purchase, this includes the twelve percent share I own in Gringott's International. I will, of course, consider selling my Gringott's shares back to the goblin nation, providing they can afford the expense such a transaction entails on a strictly cash basis?" Harry sneered deliberately in return, mimicking the goblin's abrasive behavior in like.

"I will return in one hour. Please have all receipts for the transactions I've indicated ready for my signature at that time. Good day, sir."

The goblin choked and gagged as if he had swallowed his pointy tongue, his face had gone completely ashen.

Harry turned on his heel and strode from the bank without a backward glance, while the teller's mind raced over the possible financial collapse that now loomed on Gringott's horizon over losing the largest and highest interest bearing account in the entire magical and perhaps even non-magical world.

With an unexpected hour to kill, Harry decided to take a leisurely stroll through Diagon Alley, but ended up at Florean Fontesque's for one of the ice cream maker's fables sundaes.

Harry bemusedly watched the young witch behind the counter nervously prepare his sundae. She was so distracted by his appearance in the ice cream parlor that she ended up having to throw away several failed attempts at making the proper sundae. Each thrown away blob of ice cream elicited piteous groans from the small troop of young wizards and witches that had their noses plastered to the window outside.

"I-I'm sorry for the wait. I-I don't know what's the m-matter with me today." The girl behind the fountain stammered apologetically, her face crimson with embarrassment.

Harry chuckled as he paid for his order. Taking note of the young blonde witch's name tag,

"Thank you, Melody. I'm sure it will be more than worth the wait. "

The young witch beamed delightedly at his compliment.

"We seem to have attracted quite a gathering this morning?" Harry commented noticing the growing number of young faces pressed against the store's window.

"Hmm. Melody would you do me a favor?" Harry nodded his head toward the children outside as he passed a ten galleon coin across the counter. "Would you be so kind as to put that toward the orders of our young audience outside and…" Harry passed another ten galleon coin across the counter to the stunned witch. "A tip for your trouble."

"B-B-But, Sir, the first coin is more than enough for…"

Harry interrupted by giving her a wink that sent the awe struck girl into another fit of crimson blushing, before opening the store's front door and inviting "It's on me today everybody."

He barely made it out the door without being trampled by a dozen beaming, and obviously ravenous youngsters squealing delightedly.

It was instant pandemonium within the ice cream parlor. Grinning, Harry considered that a ten galleon tip would probably be too little for the young girls' trouble.

Harry took a spoonful of his; double chocolate, pecan brownie, marshmallow cream sundae and rolled his eyes in ecstasy

_Heaven_

"That was a nice thing you did." a voice acknowledged from behind.

Harry spun around with spoon in hand "G-Ginny…? He rasped out nervously.

Ginny smirked as she reached out and brushed a bit of fudge from the corner of his mouth -and proceeded to lick the morsel off her finger suggestively.

Harry shuddered involuntarily.

"W-Would you like one of your own?" he offered.

Ginny's eyes twinkled merrily as she replied. "No thanks. I think I much prefer yours."

Harry gulped.

_Don't just stand here gapping like an idiot, Potter? SAY SOMETHING! _He chided himself.

Like an idiot, Harry did the only thing he could think of and offered Ginny his half eaten sundae.

She politely refused chuckling at the gesture.

He'd forgotten how much he missed the sound of her laughter. It was like music.

"I have a few errands to run, but if you're available, could I buy you lunch." Ginny invited with a hopeful smile.

" Er,.. um,. I'm actually on duty." He began, embarrassedly _vanishing _his unfinished treat before continuing. "I have some,.. er, unfinished business at Gringott's that.."

"Excellent, I was heading there myself." Ginny invited herself, taking his arm with a warm smile that belied the butterflies dancing in her stomach.

_Merlin above! His muscles are like granite. _

Ginny fought down the urge to lick her lips, but did manage to nonchalantly adjust her grip every so often, letting her finger play momentarily across his steel cord arm.

Harry, though wary of her subtle advances, sighed in resignation and engaged her in polite conversation as he escorted her to the wizarding bank.

The couple had barely made it thru the bank's door when they found themselves beset upon a fawning Griphook. The bank itself looked in the grips of an economic panic. Goblins were running everywhere dropping papers in their wake.

Harry did his best to maintain an impassive appearance, though the shocked expression on Ginny's face was challenging his resolve.

"Lord Potter! I-I apologize for my subordinate's earlier misunderstanding. If you would please follow me, Director Raynock is waiting to see you, sir."

"Director Raynock!" Ginny blurted out in surprise. Blushing at the attention she'd drawn to herself, Ginny lowered her voice and whisper to Harry. "Raynock is the leader of the Goblin Nation. He's one of the most powerful beings on the planet. I don't think there's a witch or wizard alive that's so much as seen him. My dad can't even get an appointment to see him, and he's the Minister of Magic." Ginny finished in disbelief.

Harry quirked a bemused smile at his escort. "Would you like to meet him?" he invited.

"Really?"

"Miss Ginevra Weasley will be accompanying me." Harry indicated to a bowing Griphook. The goblin's smile faltered slightly, but he understood that it was not a subject for debate.

"O-Of course, Lord Knight. This way please."

Griphook led the couple into the interior of Gringotts, past offices that no witch or wizard outside of Gringott's could ever have boasted seeing, not even her brother, Bill. They stopped in front of a pair of enormous, armored Goblins that stood guarding a pair of bronze doors. Griphook slipped inside begging their indulgence.

The guards held wickedly etched axes in one gauntleted fist and a large pike in the other. Both had the look of someone whom was well versed in the use of their weapons.

They each gave Harry an appraising look, taking careful note of the well worn leather pommel of the sword at his left hip. The guards shared a brief look that spoke volumes. They could tell they were in the presence of someone whose mettle they did not wish to test.

Harry could feel Ginny stiffen nervously at his side. He patted her hand on his arm and gave her a reassuringly smile that eased her anxiety.

Griphook returned and announced. "Director Raynock will see you now."' They followed Griphook into what could only be described as the most richly appointed office either had ever been in.

The walls were a lustrous oak, polished to a high sheen. The floors black marble tile that looked as if one was stepping into nothingness.

At the end of the enormous room stood a gigantic hand carved desk with gilt edges of solid gold. Behind the desk sat an immaculately dressed middle aged goblin with a nose that was very long,( even by goblin standards), and a pleasant, even jovial face that was out of character for the always too serious goblins.

The goblin exited his desk at their approach and met them, bowing gracefully.

"Lord Knight Potter. Miss Ginevra Weasley. I am honored by your visit. Please, won't you sit? Some refreshments perhaps?" the goblin director offered cordially.

"Thank you, no." Harry responded for himself, but asked "Ginny?"

"I-I'm fine. T-Thank you." Ginny stammered nervously, starring wide eyed at their surroundings.

Raynock nodded. "Very well then, to business. I must say, you've got Gringott's in quite a stir this morning, Lord Knight." Raynock chuckled with a hint of begrudging respect.

Harry shrugged unconcerned as he held a chair out for Ginny. She glanced gratefully toward him as she seated herself.

Harry took the chair next to her and responded to the waiting director.

"I made a polite inquiry and instead of being politely denied, I found myself treated in a distinctly rude fashion that I had thought unbecoming of such a world renowned institution; one that normally prides itself on its professionalism."

Ginny gasped at Harry's accusation. He continued his train of thought as if he hadn't noticed her startle.

"That being the case, I have elected to withdraw my funds from said institution in favor of other alternative financial institutions which I'm sure will be more appreciative of my business."

Raynock smiled toothily in glowing appreciation. "No doubt they will." He chuckled appreciatively.

"Well played sir, I commend you. It's been many a long year since a single wizard caused such a panic within the goblin financial world which ,of course, is akin to causing a panic within the entire Goblin Nation."

Harry feigned a regretful demeanor. "I apologize for any hardship my request may have elicited. It was not my intention to cause such a reaction." He lied with political ease.

"Bollocks! I believe is the expected profane term of response you wizards prefer for such an incredulous pronouncement." Raynock chortled.

Harry merely shrugged indifferently.

Ginny sat goggling at Harry. Where was the shy, stammering boy she once knew?

"I may ,of course, be persuaded to reconsider changing financial institutions if the goblins could display a more forth coming attitude and a modicum of professional respect." Harry intimated deftly.

Raynock nodded appreciatively. "I assure you that we are most displeased with the discourteous treatment you were afforded earlier today and I apologize sincerely on behalf of the Goblin Nation. I can assure you that the actions of our _representative_ will be dealt with immediately and with extreme prejudice."

Raynock faltered slightly and his eyes misted as he continued in a regretful tone.

"The teller you dealt with earlier, Cragnor, he is quite old and is facing his mandatory retirement age. To a goblin; retirement is akin to a walking death. There is no profit if one can no longer serve. His bitterness is understandable, if unacceptable. Though, I make no apologies for his behavior in his treatment of such a prestigious investor as yourself, let alone a knight who has served the magical world with distinction."

His praise was unsettling to Harry as Raynock continued.

"Your deeds are well known to us, Lord Knight. You serve the wellbeing of all magical species and we honor you for it. Too long have I desired a conversation with your person. I only wish it was under more congenial circumstances than presently." Again there was the air of deep seeded regret in the Director's voice.

Harry had a suspicion, but first he needed to serve his own ends.

"Director, if I may be quite blunt?"

Raynock nodded and smiled toothily. "Financial dealings are best carried out with cool precision, young lord."

Harry nodded his agreement. "I came here today with the intention of obtaining a bit of harmless information regarding a questionable transaction regarding a case I am currently pursuing that could very well have far reaching consequences in the magical world as a whole, but most certainly for Britain. Though it is my right by law, as a Confederation Knight, to receive any and all assistance in the pursuit of my investigation, I assure you that the relinquishing of said information will in no way effect negatively upon Gringott's reputation in the financial world. I'm quite sure you have seen thru my ruse for what it was intended. My being here in your presence is proof of that. I sought to draw management's attention to my plight, and that is exactly what I got, though I, er,.. must admit I wasn't aiming quite so high as to warrant impinging upon your valuable time, sir."

Raynock smirked. "As long as we are being so candid, Lord Knight? For someone of your magnitude to threaten a complete and immediate cessation of all financial dealings with Gringott's and the subsequent withdrawal of all monies forthwith, would warrant nothing less than my immediate attention."

Raynock glanced at Ginny meaningfully. "May I be further candid in front of Ms. Weasley?"

Ginny's puzzled eyes swiveled from Raynock to Harry.

Harry nodded.

"You are a Confederation Knight, and one that deserves our utmost respect and consideration. For that alone , I pledge you the assistance of Gringott's in whatever capacity you require from this day forward."

Ginny gasped audibly.

"More importantly, at least as far as goblins are concerned, you are the single most prominent account in any Gringott's branch the world over. That distinction alone warrants our immediate attention in any and all dealings with your person. You have but to ask it of us and it is yours. It's the least we could do for our largest depositor."

"Largest Depositor?" Ginny shrieked in shocked disbelief. Her chair tipped over backwards with a resounding crash, sending her sprawling.

The commotion alerted the guard outside. Both goblins marched into the office with weapons drawn their eyes swiveled malevolently over the room.

Raynock merely chuckled and waved them off as Harry attempted to extradite a furiously blushing Ginevra Weasley from her broken chair.

"I-I'm t-terribly sorry." Ginny stammered out in mortification.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked concerned as his hand reached out and gripped her arm.

Ginny searched his eyes finding only true concern mirrored within.

"I'm f-fine, Harry." She blushed as both of them chuckled at the irony of that statement.

_Harry was always ' Fine'._

After their amusement receded, Ginny's expression turned serious. "Maybe I should go?"

"We're almost done here." Harry said distractedly before turning his attention back to the bemused Director.

"I accept your generosity and pledge that I will not take advantage of your good will. I apologize for my haste, but I require the identity of the person, or person's, who had financially backed the New Delhi Trading Corporation?"

Raynock nodded. "The information will be waiting for you upon your departure. **Any** of our tellers shall be more than happy to assist you." he vowed.

"You have my gratitude." Harry returned appreciatively. "Oh , there is one thing more,.. this, Cragnor? I get the impression that he is an acquaintance of yours?" Harry calculated in a well played, off hand manner.

Raynock's eyes misted over. "M-My father." he admitted despairingly.

"Is his mind still sharp?" Harry inquired innocently.

"There are none finer to be had within Gringott's walls." Raynock assured with a touch of pride, before adding regretfully, "Our rules are very stringent, though. A goblin my father's age must retire so as not to give the public sector the false impression that we are taking any chances with their finances. Wizards, like all humans, tend to all too often perceive age with infirmity."

"Hmm, a shame to waste such a fine financial mind." Harry agreed. "I wonder.. Raynock...? I find myself encumbered by my chosen occupation in that I am unable to adequately manage my finances . Do you by chance know of someone who could manage my accounts, perhaps… an independent consultant?"

Raynock's broad toothy grin nearly split his face in two. "T-That is extremely generous of you, Lord Knight, b-but I fear that an account the size of yours would require at minimum of three officers to manage it effectively?"

"I see." Harry considered before suggesting. "Would perchance, William Weasley and Griphook be available from the Gringott's end to assist your father in the management of the Potter-Black-Griffyndor account? They could manage all three together, or separately-one to each. Though I would prefer Cragnor manage the Griffyndor account as that is by far the most detailed of the three."

"Excellent choices on the whole, Lord Knight." Raynock beamed approvingly. "As they will predominantly be managing your accounts would you prefer to reimburse Gringotts for their services, or provide for their services independently? What terms do you offer, sir?"

"I will, of course, provide adequate compensation for their services independently as befits their time and effort; say one-half percent of all profits, and an additional half percent to, Cragnor, as he will have final proxy as senior fund manager. I assume that Gringott's is willing to settle for their customary share of interest dividends and transaction fees?"

"T-That is indeed most generous, Lord Knight. I accept gratefully on behalf of my staff and will notify Cragnor, Griphook and Mr. Weasley of their subsequent promotions immediately. I-Is there anything else you require?"

"No, just your hand." Harry held out his hand to the Goblin Director.

Raynock stared at the proffered hand dumbstruck. _No wizard had ever deigned to shake hands with a goblin before, not even the Director._

Raynock's gnarled hand reached out and gripped Harry's. "You honor me, sir. Please, come and visit me when you have the time. My office is always open to you, Lord Knight."

Harry nodded. "I'm the one who's honored. May your days be profitable, Director."

"And yours safe, Lord Knight."

Harry collected an awestruck, Ginny Weasley, and vacated the Director's office.

Long after his departure, Director Raynock sat staring blankly at his hand with a wistful smile on his face.

It was the first time he'd ever considered the possibility that the relative wealth of some things cannot be weighed in galleons, a strange notion for a goblin.


	6. Chapter 6: Lunch with a freind

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry potter characters.

**Chapter Six: Lunch with a friend **

"H-Harry…."

"H-Harry.. that.. was…."

Harry dragged an awestruck Ginny down the marble steps of Gringott's Wizarding Bank.

"That was just another means to an end, Ginny. Don't go reading more into it." Harry put their afternoon into perspective.

"But that was Raynock, the leader of the Goblin Nation. I mean,.. he's like a king or something!" Ginny continued to sputter as he pulled her along with him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've met kings before. They're just like anyone else, Ginny . They just have a lot more responsibility then other people. Just look at your dad and all the responsibility he's saddled with. It's pretty much the same thing. Most are just decent folk who want to do right by the people they're responsible for."

Ginny dug in her heals and pulled him to a stop. "Raynock pretty much intimated that if you took all your money out of Gringott's you'd ruin them and throw the British financial world in a tailspin. Was he right?"

Harry pursed his lips and considered her question. He was never very comfortable discussing his inheritances and the subsequent wealth he'd acquired through careful investments since he came of age, especially when he didn't need the money per say for himself. Most wouldn't believe what he really used the money for, not that it was their business anyway.

He knew he could trust Ginny. If he couldn't, he would have never let her tag along into Raynock's office.

"Well?" Ginny prompted impatiently.

"What would you like me to say, Ginny? Does it really make a difference how much money I have?" he challenged.

"Of course not." Ginny returned mildly insulted by his insinuation. "But would you have really done what you said? Would you have hurt the goblins and the rest of the wizard economy just to get a bit of information." Ginny asked incredulously.

Now, Harry looked insulted. "Of course not, what do you take me for? I may be death walking, but I'm not cruel. I don't delight in harming others and wouldn't do it just to serve my own ends. People can potentially get killed around me, but that doesn't make me a Dark Lord." Harry spat back caustically.

Ginny's face fell and tears welled at the corners of her eyes. He hadn't meant to be so abrasive, but it was too late to take it back now.

"Look, it's well past noon and I haven't eaten anything yet today, so, er,.. would you care to go to lunch with me?" Harry offered uncertainly, trying to change the subject and make up for hurting her feelings at the same time.

He really was hungry, he told himself.

Ginny's face immediately brightened. "I'd love to, Harry." She threaded her arm through his, before he had a chance to object, and directed him toward a little café she recommended off the south end of Diagon Alley.

The café ended up being a rather intimate French bistro that offered a rather wide selection of popular dishes.

Ginny was struggling with her selection, asking a very patient waiter to describe selections as she pointed them out on the menu.

"If I may?" Harry interrupted with a bemused expression. Harry proceeded to order for both of them in fluid French, much to the appreciation of the frustrated waiter and to the surprise of his dining partner.

"Y-You speak French?" Ginny blurted in surprise.

"Was that French?" Harry returned innocently, but with mischief dancing in his eyes. "I just thought his English was rather poor, probably a Welshmen."

"Prat." Ginny scolded, chuckling. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; O' world renowned knight. I'm sure there isn't anywhere you haven't been. You probably have a girl in every port, and all that?"

Ginny attempted to keep things light, but she was fishing and he knew it.

"No girl." Harry answered tonelessly, not caring one way or another over divulging what was obvious, at least to him.

Ginny smirked skeptically. "Oh come on, there must be someone special out there."

"There is,… or was." Harry amended pointedly.

"Oh"

Ginny had the decency to act mortified, but the slight blush rising on her cheek wasn't helping matters.

The waiter brought their meals, including a bottle of vintage wine that Harry had taken the liberty of adding to their meal.

They ate in companionable silence. Whether it was the wine or her own Gryffindor courage finally rearing its head, Ginny pressed forward and continued their previous conversation.

"Harry..?"

"Hmm" he acknowledged between bites.

"Why isn't there anyone, now? A girlfriend I mean?" she asked tentatively, fidgeting in her seat.

Harry's fork paused on the way to his mouth. He sighed and returned his fork to his plate regretfully.

_There went my appetite _

He paused to take a sip of his wine, swirling the dregs around in his glass as he considered his answer.

"There's a lot of reasons. What they are is inconsequential because, above all else, I'm a Knight. Being a Knight isn't just an occupation, it's a commitment, one that comes before anything else."

Harry took the politically correct dodge. It was true, but, not entirely so. He could effectively resign his commission, if he so desired.

Ginny wasn't willing to be so easily sidetracked. "You said there were a lot of reasons...what are the others?"

"It doesn't matter. Being a knight takes proxy, there's no point on dwelling on the rest."Harry returned shortly.

She had the most infuriating stubborn look on her face. The same sort of look she used to get when she couldn't cast a new spell, but she wasn't willing to stop trying until she got it right.

"I-It matters to me. Please, I'd like to know?" Ginny pleaded softly, her moist eyes searched his.

"Aw, Ginny." Harry rasped in frustration, throwing his napkin down on his plate.

"They're loads of reasons:

I'm always on duty.

I don't go out looking for someone to be with and I don't want to.

Even if there was someone who would be interested, it would only be because I'm the bloody 'boy who lived', or because I'm a knight.

Besides, no decent witch would want to be with someone like me. I told you before, I'm a killer. There's blood on my hands. There's blood today, and Merlin help me, there'll be blood tomorrow. "

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she hissed back. "You...Are...Not...A…Killer. I've heard you say that many times today and sorry, but I'm not convinced. So, unless you want a '_bat-boogey'_ coming your way, stop spouting such utter rubbish!"

Harry grimaced. He was fairly certain he could block anything she thru his way, but did he really want to risk it. If memory served, her _Bat Boogey hexes _were decidedly unpleasant, and she had had years to perfect it since school.

Harry held up his hands in concession. "Look, can't we just enjoy our meal and talk about something else?"

Ginny smirked as she poked her fork into a piece of her fruit garnish. "I'm enjoying my meal, and for the most part, I find the conversation **interesting, **but I concede your point-**for now.** Tell me Harry, why a knight? Why not be an auror, or play quidditch?"

Harry visibly relaxed, appreciatively at her change in conversation. "After Voldemort, I just wanted out of England. There were teams interested in me, here and abroad, but I could have never been sure that they wanted me, Harry Potter- Griffyndor Seeker, and not the 'Boy Who Lived'. I would've wanted to play based on my own merits, not as a marketing scheme to sell t-shirts and souvenirs."

Ginny shook her head, smiling wistfully. "You were a terrific flyer, Harry. Any team would have taken you in a second for that reason alone. You should have done it. Why did you become a Knight, instead of an auror?"

"An auror is far too limiting, too subordinate. As a Knight I'm empowered to seek out justice by any means necessary and with no jurisdictional limitations. It seemed the natural direction for me to take."

"You like it then?"

"I never said that. I do it because I'm good at it."

"But if you don't like it?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"People do things everyday that they don't particularly enjoy doing, but they still do them for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is- they're good at it. I happen to be good at catching dark lords, it doesn't matter that I don't particularly like what I'm doing. It's necessary and it helps in a small way to protect people." Harry explained.

"Still suffering from that same 'Potter Nobility Complex', I see?" Ginny quipped.

Harry just shrugged by way of answer.

"What now, Harry?" Ginny asked vaguely.

"I solve the Henderson case and then move on to another assignment." he answered in an obvious tone.

"Ron, says that the Henderson case is unsolvable?" Ginny refuted.

"I'm sure that Ron is a good auror, but no case is unsolvable." Harry disagreed.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock." Ginny chuckled.

"You don't exactly look like Dr. Watson." Harry returned grinning.

"Well, hmm, I have put on a few pounds since Hogwarts." Ginny conceded.

Harry smirked "And not in a bad way, either."

Ginny gasped in mock mortification as she teased. "Why Mr. Potter, I do believe you're flirting with me? Was that actually a veiled compliment?"

"It was." Harry admitted smiling sheepishly.

"Well since you seem to be admiring my quidditch form, why don't you come and see me play sometime? I could get you tickets for just about any game."

Harry gave her a bemused expression. "I have seen you play and _many _times." He acknowledged pointedly.

"You have?!" Ginny gasped in pretend shock. She knew he'd been at the game last Saturday despite the anonymous card left with the white rose. She knew it had been him.

"Yes. Davis needs to pick up a faster broom. She's lagging behind you a few kilometers/hour and her passes sometimes force you to have to slow. It makes you vulnerable to bludgers and having the quaffle stolen."

Ginny nodded her head absently in agreement. "I-I'll tell her you said so."

"Do that"

"H-Harry..?" Ginny turned her moist eyes up to his. "H-how many games have you come to?"

"Many of the night games,.. when I'm not in the field." He amended.

Ginny wiped at one of her eyes. "And you never stopped at the locker room after,.. just to s-say, hi?" Her voice carried a hurt tone.

"Well, the Harpies are an all witch team after all. It wouldn't have necessarily been a good thing having me try to get in their locker room?" He suggested smugly, trying to make light of the situation.

Ginny was not amused by his attempt at levity, however. "You know what I mean, Harry." She returned irately. A glimmer of that blazing look was in her eyes now.

Harry eyes fell. "I know what you mean." He admitted. "It wasn't my place to, not anymore. Besides, my presence seems to spoil the party and puts everyone on edge. Just goes to show you that your mum was right about me. People instinctively respond to it."

"People are not frightened of you; they're in awe of you. You're a hero, **damn it**!". Why can't you see yourself the way that the rest of the world does?" Ginny growled in frustration.

"I'll leave a ticket for you at the door. I expect you to come, **and…** I expect you to stop after the game at the team's locker to meet my teammates. That's the sort of thing that a friend does." Ginny bit out in a fiercely, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Harry looked uncertain. "I don't know, Devonshire's kind of far away…?" he whined, pretending to hesitate.

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she fingered her wand pointedly

She was itching to hex him and he knew it.

"Don't mess with me, Potter. If it's too far for the illustrious Knight to apparate, then I'm sure that such a wealthy wizard as yourself could at least afford fare for the Knight Bus, especially considering you're getting your ticket for free." She huffed indignantly, still fingering her wand.

Harry held up his hands in a placating fashion. "I should be delighted to come, thank you."

_What the hell are you thinking, Potter! _ His mind screamed in warning.

"Now, was that so hard? I mean honestly, Harry?" Ginny huffed exasperated.

_Merlin! , She's gorgeous when she gets worked up._ He thought shamefully.

"Just why are you grinning like that?" Ginny asked curiously, catching the expression on his face.

"Just remembering a funny story." He deflected.

"Love to hear it?" Ginny pressed coyly.

"It escapes me."

"I'm sure." Ginny demurred knowingly

Ginny attempted to reach for his hand, but Harry flinched and pulled his out of range.

She tried to cover the hurt expression on her face, but only succeeded by half.

"Harry…?"

"Ginny, don't, just … don't." he cautioned softly. The pain and longing in his eyes tore at her heart.

He's been coming to her games. For the first time in year's he's talking to her. He's begun showing a bit of himself, opening himself up, even if just a bit. She wanted more, needed more. Hell! She wanted everything, but knew she'd have to be patient or it would never happen and even then it was a long shot.

Harry was always uncertain of himself when it came to girls and relationships. Lord knows he has a reason to be. Her heart aches for him, longs for him. It's never gotten better, not a wit. When Harry left, her heart left with him. When he returned,.. it was like she could feel it beating again for the first time in years.

Ginny tucked a stray hair behind her ear, catching his eyes track her movements as she did so. She'd hoped he'd respond to the gesture, and he had, if only a little. He'd always loved her hair.

The waiter brought the check and Harry quickly paid for it before Ginny could offer a word of protest.

"Thank you for the lunch, Harry. I don't suppose we could do it again sometimes?" She inquired hopefully, careful to keep things light.

"That depends." He returned cautiously.

"On?" She winced, realizing she'd asked a little too quickly.

"On if it's just a friendly outing?" Harry returned warily.

"I-I'd like that." Ginny agreed masking the disappointment from her voice.

" I,.. I can't,.. let's just keep it as friends …okay " Her heart fluttered at hearing the hesitation in voice, but she kept her reaction neutral.

"Friends is good for me."

_God, that was vile to the tongue._

She couldn't be sure, but part of her wanted to believe he looked a tad disappointed at her answer, at least she hoped that was it.

"Okay, then. I guess I'll see you on Friday."

"Friday" Ginny agreed calmly, but she was crowing inside.

* * *

Harry had spent the week tirelessly tracking down leads on the Henderson case. The information that Gringott's had provided, indicated that the New Delhi Trading Company was nothing more than a front for a lesser known subsidiary of the Malfoy family holdings.

_Not a surprise that. If it was unscrupulous in this neck of the world than the Malfoy's were not far removed._

New Delhi ended up being an empty warehouse in a discrete, that is to say, _criminal infested_ portion of the West Indies.

Through time consuming diligence and a modicum of luck, he was able to track down one of the more disreputable shipping companies that had recent dealings with the now supposedly defunct New Delhi Company.

Through a small bit of **persuasion, **Harry was able to convince the shipping company's tax beleaguered owner that it was in his best interest to cooperate fully with his investigation. That conversation had led him to a non-descript holding locker in a crime ridden portion of southern Wales.

Again, he was too late, finding only an empty storage locker, well an almost empty storage locker. He had found some suspicious residue left behind from whatever the locker had recently contained.

The material in question was currently being analyzed at the Confederation's forensic laboratory. With any luck the lab would have their results available by Saturday, leaving him free to enjoy the Harpies match tomorrow night.

Though he was making vague headway at best in the investigation, Harry could not shake the nagging feeling that he was being manipulated. The clues he found yielded little more than a direction, his instincts told him he was being purposefully directed, or _misdirected_. Though each clue provided very little usable information, he was still finding them too easily for his liking.

* * *

**Harpies vs. Falmouth Falcons.**

Harry had arrived at the Harpies stadium just before the quiddich balls were released. The ticket Ginny had left for him at the box office was suspiciously located in one of the teams private boxes, a fact he recognized from previous visits to the Harpies' stadium.

Warily he ducked out from behind one of the concessions to find his suspicions well founded, a sea of red headed spectators were already seated within the box section that corresponded with his own ticket.

He steeled his resolve and made to join the others, when blessedly, his communication insignia at his lapel vibrated, indicating that he had an incoming communication from Confederation Command.

Though he was not required to wear his uniform while off duty, he was required to maintain twenty four hour contact with command, established by means of state of the art communication device, housed in the knights insignia that adorned their collar or lapel, making the device both functional and unobtrusive.

Harry tapped his insignia: "Base.. this is Knight Four- over."

"Knight Four, this is base. Be advised that preliminary results on the substance you requested analyzed has been identified as military grade plastic explosive. Base Over"

Harry frowned. "Can explosive be transported by magical means?-over."

"Negative" came the static reply.

Harry paused further communications as the home crowd roared its approval of a "A s_pectacular shot on goal , made by chaser Ginevra Weasly!" _The announcer shouted.

_That a girl, Gin!_ Harry cheered inwardly.

"Base explain last reply?-Over"

"Magical transport would change molecular structure of already unstable explosive material, resulting in premature explosion or possibly rendering substance inert.-Base Over"

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He could feel the hackles rising on his neck.

"Base-given explosive substances last known location and muggle transportation available in said area, what is the farthest points of possible transport in a twenty four hour period?-Over"

"Most viable form of transportation that would attract the least amount of attention would be muggle overland shipping via truck route. Possible end locations of ; Lancaster, Kern, and Devonshire. Base Over"

The blood drained from Harry's face. The sickening feeling that he was being manipulated just went into overkill.

"Base, this is Knight Four. Current location is Harpies Stadium in Devonshire. Request immediate backup of all availab…."

His communication went unfinished as a deep rumbling shook the foundation of the stadium beneath his feet.

_Merlin's Beard!_

"Base Emergency E-Vac One. Repeat E-Vac One"

Harry bolted from the concessions area into the now suspiciously quiet stadium. It was as if a fifty thousand people were all holding their breath in morbid trepidation.

Several painfully slow moments later; the night erupted in screams of terror as the stadium's south section groaned ominously as steel support beams shuddered and began to collapse under the weight of tens of thousands of people who, up to a minute ago, had been enjoying a fine quidditch match with friends and family. No longer concerned with their home team's prospects of winning, now their own survival was the only thought within their terrified minds.

People on the south end began a mad scramble for the exits as the stadium began to collapse inward beneath their feet. Not only would they never make it to safety before being crushed beneath metric tons of steel and concrete, but their own terrified scrambles only hastened their impending doom, causing the section to sway which strained the few remaining support cables to their breaking point and snapped with thunderous '**Twangs'.**

Harry smashed through the stadium's wards and apparated himself directly onto the stadium's pitch**. **A quick wave of his hand and his clothes instantly transformed into his well known uniform and blood stained cloak.

Cries of hope now mixed with those that had been solely of terror as people noticed his sudden arrival.

Harry pulled his gleaming ebony sword out of thin air and rammed the blade into the ground. On impact a golden hued shockwave rippled out from his sword and crashed over the entire stadium like a tidal wave.

"The wards are down!" Harry's voice, (amplified by a powerful _Sonorus Charm_), echoed throughout the stadium. "All those who can apparate, please side along as many as you can manage to safety. The rest of you please make your way to the nearest exit as calmly as possible."

Thousands of voices sighed gratefully, soon followed by hundreds of 'pops' , as people apparated away to safety. Many thousands more stampeded to the exits.

They would never make it.

With an ear deafening groan of tearing metal, the lasts supports collapsed and the section began to crumble under its own weight, threatening to take thousands with it to their deaths.

"**WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"**

Harry was kneeling at center pitch. One hand gripped the hilt of his embedded sword in a white knuckled fist. The other hand held the entire south end of the stadium aloft.

Great waves of magical energy washed out of Harry as he strained to do the impossible.

**The unimaginable!**

Your average wizard could levitate many hundreds of pounds. Those well trained, such as aurors had been conditioned to levitate up to several thousand pounds, perhaps even many tons or so, albeit for short durations, or in conjunction with other wizards at the same time, to lift such things as fallen boulders and trees, the results of natural disasters and the like.

A few of the very strongest wizards could levitate many tons, perhaps even hundreds of such for a few precious minutes.

Harry Potter was holding many such metric tons aloft for several seconds already.

People swarmed the exits in a blind panic to get off the crumbling section before it collapsed in its entirety.

Security personal apparated briefly onto the floating section to help remove those who couldn't make it to the exits or apparate on their own. Several wasted precious moments, gapping in disbelief at the awesome display of magic before them.

Harpies and Falcon players flew in and pulled stragglers and small children onto their brooms, flying as many away as they could safely manage and returning just as quickly to chance more of the same.

They looked like worker bees around a hive.

Ginny stifled a sob when she caught a glance of Harry as she pulled another small girl onto her broom, cooing reassuringly that 'everything would be alright'.

Harry was shuddering violently as he strained to pull more energy from his already depleted magical core and force it down into his blade.

His ebony sword gleamed like a fallen star in his hand as he channeled more and more energy into it, using it as a focus, or wand, to augment his waning magical reserves.

He ignored the blood that trickled down from his nose and the wetness he felt beneath his ears, knowing that he was fighting his final battle. He was determined to see as many to safety as he could before he surrendered to the inevitable.

Ginny hovered above, staring in abject wonder as the man she loved sacrificed himself, desperate to save the last, of the once- thousands, that had been trapped on the collapsing stadium section.

Harry's body glowed an intense silvery hue, his aura had become visible to the naked eye and it was -_majestic. _

It was breath taking for most present. For those that understood the extent of what was happening … it was a horror.

Harry was sacrificing his life source, his very soul, buying the precious time needed for the last of those trapped on the crumbling stadium section, to make it to safety.

It was an act that was beyond gallant.

It was an act of fathomless love and dedication. One awe inspiring act that was capable of changing the course of history if its lessons were taken to heart in generations to come.

This was not the act of a pariah. No 'hand of death' was capable of such unselfish sacrifice.

Thousands of shame filled eyes watched in regret as one they'd shunned and mistreated sacrificed all for people who had, up till now, made him feel low and unworthy- an outcast.

_Merlin above-Help Him! _Ginny prayed along silently with thousands of others.

She should continue helping to rescue the last of those still trapped, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

He was magnificent.

He had to live_. This can't be his end... our end_, for surely, if Harry died –she would too. She couldn't go on without him. She wouldn't go on without him!

Ginny shot downward, landing her broom next to Harry's struggling form. She tossed her broom to one side and knelt down where he could see her pleading tear filled eyes.

"H-Harry..." She choked out desperately.

He was drenched in sweat, his eyes laced with unimaginable pain. He was shuddering violently as he fought to keep the crumbling section aloft as every precious second saw another life spared a crushing fate.

Despite his anguish, Harry's eyes flickered in recognition at the sound of her voice.

"D-D-Don't, G-Ginny. Get o-o-out of h-here! I c-can't hold it much l-longer." he stuttered terribly as he struggled to warn her, fearing what would happen once his hold on his waning magic failed.

"Then I'm where I need to be." Ginny retuned with calm reassurance, belying the terrible dread that clutched at her soul and the fierce pounding of her racing heart.

"W-What's aunt Ginny doing Momma?" Willimena asked, afraid for her aunt now, as well as her friend.

"She iz trying to elp 'Arry." Fleur reassured her daughter clutching her tightly in her arms.

"Should I pray for them?" The little girl sniffled wanting to help.

"Yes, Willie. Pray love. Pray very ard." Fleur clutched her daughter protectively as Bill's arms silently wrapped around the two of them while they all stared down in silent witness to Harry's final act of heroic selflessness.

Hermione clutched Ron, needing desperately to feel his reassuring warmth. Tear tracks marred a face that had been filled with excited expectation only minutes ago in the thought that: Harry was coming to watch Ginny's match with them. It would be a first step to reuniting the family again, to healing his heart. To give him a chance to renew his and Ginny's love... not that they had ever stopped loving one another to begin with.

Though so much had happened and they were different people now, she still held hope that they'd find a way into each other's heart as they once had.

Now this! He was dying. Right before their very eyes... he was killing himself to save thousands of others.

The wreckage of the stadium section began to dip and sway in rhythm with Harry's flagging attempts to bolster his waning power.

His heart was beating wildly, erratically. He could feel every thunderous ache reverberating through his weary body. His head felt like something was tearing away inside, the pain was all consuming, maddening.

There were only a few people still trapped on the falling structure. If he could only hold out a few moments more. Just… a… few… m-moments…

"G-Ginny…Please? C-Can't … h-hold it…" Harry gaspingly begged her to leave and get to safety. Each syllable was an agony, as he used oxygen that he couldn't afford to lose.

"I won't leave you, Harry." Ginny returned with compassionate resolve. "You can do this, I know you can. Ginny tried vainly to bolster his fledging spirits.

Her head swiveled to the swaying stadium section and back to Harry's shuddering form. Blood was flowing freely from his nose and ears. The effort was killing him. If he wasn't dead already,… he soon would be.

She couldn't accept that. Not now, not ever.

"There almost all down, Harry. Just hold on. Hold on, baby." She begged.

POP-POP-POP-POP

Several black uniformed knights had just apparated onto the field.

Ginny tore her gaze away from Harry's tortured form, her brain taking a moment to comprehend the others that had arrived.

Several Knights were gaping in stunned disbelief at the spectacle before them. They were as mesmerized as the rest of the stadium crowd by the immensity of Harry's heroic act.

"**Help him!"** Ginny demanded, shaking them from their stupor.

One of the knights, someone of command, by the bars on his tunic, began barking out orders to his fellows.

"Five and Six, bolster Potter's magic."

The indicated knights stepped forward and each grasped Harry by a shoulder, adding their own magical power to augment Harry's fading strength.

The two knights spoke encouragingly to Harry; both trying to reassure him. If he even heard them it was impossible to say as his eyes were glazed with unimaginable pain.

Their commander tapped his lapel insignia. "Base we need healers here, send everyone you can spare and even those you can't –over."

"Two, this is base, acknowledged- over. "

A static pause ,…then a new voice came on, one of authority. "Two this is **one**. What is four's condition?-over."

"Critical, sir. Over" The ranking field officer returned worriedly.

"I'm on my way. One –out."

Bjorn Dykstra, the Confederation's 'First Knight' arrived on the pitch scant moments later. He expected to find the stadium crowd in a state of total panic, ie… stampeding civilians, the air filled with frightened screams and the wails of the dying, twisted bodies and jagged wreckage strewn across the landscape.

He found instead the last dregs of what was once several thousands of 'would be' victims being efficiently and expediently removed from a crumbling section of stadium bleachers. An entire quarter of the oval shaped stadium, thousands of metric tons, was being held aloft by one lone wizard, while emergency personnel and even a few airborne quidditch players valiantly evacuated the last of the stranded spectators.

Bjorn Dystra had seen many unbelievable sights in his years as a Confederation Knight, but nothing in that entire time could compare with the sheer magnitude of this one gallant act by a man he was proud, very proud to call his friend.

He paused, shocked into silence as was the rest of the stadium full of spectators. All bore silent witness to the last selfless act of a _true hero_, who considered himself the exact opposite.

A lone voice, brought Dykstra out of his awed stupor. One lone girl wearing a quidditch uniform. She had flaming red hair like a fiery sunset and a will to match.

"Please, baby. Please hang on. Help's here, Harry. Please luv, try to hold on. Please don't leave me." She begged at the young knight's side.

Five and six lie in crumpled heaps nearby. It was impossible to believe, but it appeared that their own magical reserves had depleted in the near heart beat it had taken him to arrive.

_How is Harry doing this? If five and six are already depleted to the point of unconsciousness, how is Harry still in it__**? **_

_**Merlin, his sword?!**_

Bjorn had taken a hesitant step forward and from his new vantage point, he could see that Harry's ebony blade had melted into a puddle of molten slag. A knight's ebony blade was professed to be indestructible, until now. Apparently, Harry had channeled such an extreme amount of magical energy thru his blade using it as a magical foci, that the blade had succumbed to the stress.

"You can stop, Harry. They're all safe now. Please stop, luv. Harry listen to me,.. it's okay now, you can stop." Ginny begged in relief as the last of the spectators was flown from the swaying wreckage.

_He's doing it for her! _Bjorn realized. _He's saving everyone because it's the right thing to do, but he's hanging on when he should already be dead,…. for her._

He knew in that moment, for a certainty, the identity of the girl.

Bjorn surged forward, grasping Harry's shoulders and channeling his own not unsubstantial magic into Harry, bolstering his reserves before it wastoo late and his magic failed entirely. If that happened his heart would soon follow.

"Let it go, Harry. " He bit out trying to maintain his focus, lest he injure them both.

"Slap him!" Dykstra ordered the sobbing girl.

" Wha, no… no I ..I can't." she pleaded, shaking her head vehemently in denial.

"He's got to lose focus and break off the spell before he kills himself. I can't hold out much longer." Dykstra warned.

"Do it now!" he barked.

Ginny raised her hand uncertainly… "I'm s-sorry…"

**CRACK**

"Ugh" Harry grunted from the impact. His eyes rolled up into his head and he pitched forward, face first into the grass.

Ginny collapsed, sobbing inconsolably. Her face buried in her hands as she wailed out her despair.

_She'd sworn to herself that she would never hurt him again. Not for anything, not for any reason,… and now she had._

"Christ, he's not breathing!" Bjorn Dykstra blurted in alarm, immediately tapping his insignia, establishing a communication link with his home base..

"Base this is One. I've got a medical emergency, Priority Alpha,.. I repeat Priority Alpha. Receive by _port key-_ knight four on my mark, **three-two-one** –**now!**

A slight 'pop' from the disruption of air and Harry was gone from the grassy pitch.

A few anxious seconds later…

"One, this is base. Medical team Alpha reports receiving Four. –Out"

"Base this is One, acknowledged-out"

Bjorn Dykstra sighed in relief as he wiped his tunic sleeve across his sweat damp brow, then immediately turned his attention to the sobbing girl nearby.

"You must be, Ginny." he acknowledged kindly placing his hand to the girl's shoulder compassionately.

Startled, Ginny's sobbing diminished enough for her to asked haltingly, " H-How did… you..k-know?"

Bjorn smiled warmly. "To know Harry, is to know Ginny." he returned knowingly, if vaguely.


	7. Chapter 7: The slow process of healing

Disclaimer: Iown nothing of the harry Potter characters.

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!

**Chapter Seven: The slow process of healing **

Confused, blurry green eyes opened slowly, wincing at the bright noon day light edging in from around the blinds in an all too familiar clinical environment.

"The sleeper awakes." A familiar voice announced on seeing his eyes open.

"How l-long." Harry rasped from a dry throat disused to talking.

Bjorn poured a glass of cool water and passed it to his young friend's reaching hand, waiting politely for him to orient himself and drink his fill before he answered his question.

Harry drank greedily, relishing the feel of the cool water as it glided down his parched throat. After finishing his glass, he briefly considered another, but Bjorn's silence did not bode well.

"That long, eh?" Harry quipped, understanding his friend's reluctance to answer him.

Bjorn quirked a half smile, grateful for his young friend's attempt to lighten the mood.

"Nearly a month, Harry" he acknowledged.

"A month!" Harry nearly came off his bed, but Bjorn's restraining arm caught him around the waist and eased him back to his pillows with more difficulty than he would have thought possible, even for Harry.

"You're lucky you made it at all, Harry. You're brain was hemorrhaging when they brought you in. You nearly stroked. Your heart stopped twice while the healers were working on you. Christ, Harry,.. You scared the hell out of all of us. I can't tell you how many times they thought you wouldn't last the night over those first couple of weeks." Bjorn vented his stress and relief.

"All of us?' Harry questioned with a puzzled expression. "You usually don't include the other knights when you're venting, Bjorn. Who does **us **refer to exactly?" Harry pressed suspiciously.

"You know; me, the healers, your other friends." Bjorn returned vaguely.

"The other Knights usually don't worry over such things; we've all been thru it before. The fellows know the drill." Harry glanced at his friend critically.

"Not just those friends."

"Not just those friends?" Harry repeated hollowly quirking an eyebrow.

"There were other interested parties here as well."

"Why did you let them send me back here? You knew how I felt about things." Harry bit out caustically.

"Are you no longer interested in who came to visit while you were out?" Bjorn teased, ignoring Harry's accusations.

"I already know who was here." Harry groused. "What I don't know is why or how? Isn't there a guard outside, that is standard protocol for a downed knight, is it not, First Knight?" Harry sneered condescendingly.

"Fourteen and eleven are on watch outside, currently." Bjorn confirmed.

"Then how did a civilian get in here, especially a rather petite and untrained young witch? Two fully trained knights should have no trouble with such a relatively harmless person?"

"Harmless?" Bjorn snorted, shaking his head. "That's the understatement of the century. Sanders was foolish enough to bar her way that first day. That's one feisty little witch that is. She hit him with a shrinking hex before he could get his wand out of the holster. According to him he'll never get it out of the holster again,… if you catch my meaning?"

"Huh?" Harry grunted bewildered.

"She ,…er,.. _Shrunk_ , his other _wand." _Bjorn pointed out uncomfortably. "The healers worked on him for the better part of three hours trying to reverse the thing. They claim they did a good job of it, but he claims it's still several inches short. They tried to get Ms. Weasley to reverse the hex, even threatened her with assault on a Knight, but she's not having it. The boys have got a pool going on as to what size Sander's 'willie' really is? Course, we won't know who won till Ms. Weasley takes pity on the poor fool and reverses the hex. Sanders has been pulling extra guard duty so that he can petition her every time she visits, hoping to catch her in a charitable mood. Personally, I agree with knight eleven and think he's just crushing on the girl."

"What're you down for in the pool?" Harry inquired with a knowing smirk on his face.

"I think the healers reversed it that same day and he's at normal now, such as it is." Bjorn flashed a sympathetic grimace over his subordinate's plight.

"I think he's just hoping to get a sympathy date out of it, that and talk some naive healer into blessing him with a _lengthening charm_. "

So what's the current length then?" Harry pressed enjoying the look of discomfort on his boss's face.

"Err, umm…"

"How's that?" Harry quipped.

It's er, a bit under, ah… normal." Bjorn mumbled embarrassed.

Harry chuckled. "So like, about five inches, eh? I don't blame him. I'm tempted to do the charm myself on the poor sod. "  
Bjorn cleared his throat, nodding his reluctant agreement. "Knight's should have compassion, even amongst their own."

They both shared a laugh over that, until Harry clutched his head and groaned in pain.

Bjorn grasped Harry's shoulder bracingly, until the spasm passed. Silently he passed him a glass of water and encouraged his young friend to take a drink.

"Do you need a pain potion?"

Harry shook his head, grimacing at the movement.

"The healer's said you'll have some residual headaches and dizzy spells, but that should pass in a few days to a week. Your magic is a concern as well. They said they've never seen such an excessive case of magical exhaustion. It could take weeks,... months even before your magical reserves are replenished."

"I'm not staying in the hospital that long." Harry groused

Bjorn quirked an eyebrow at his defiant friend. "Well,... You're not returning to active duty either."

"What'd you mean?" Harry began in alarm.

"You and I have always been straight with each other; I'm not going to change that now, so here's the official poop: The council has placed you on administrative leave for a period of no less than six months."

"SIX MONTHS…ARGHH!" Harry clutched his head groaning, as another piercing wave of agony shot thru the side of his head.

"Easy, Harry,... easy." Bjorn consoled his friend, helping him thru another episode. Once the pain subsided, Bjorn passed his friend a vial of pain potion which he drank without complaint. That in itself was surprising to his commander. Harry was not one to easily acknowledge discomfort.

"Don't go getting yourself worked up over it, Harry. There's nothing you or I can do and upsetting yourself will only make things worse. You need to rest and regain your strength. It's all in the healers hands now. They're the ones that report to the council and they said it's gonna be months before you're completely recovered,… if at all."Bjorn finished pointedly in a worried tone of voice that harry immediately caught.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm, "What'd you mean, 'if at all'?"

Bjorn met his friend's eyes. "It's bad, Harry. You're magic was nonexistent those first couple of weeks. That's why they couldn't heal you, there was nothing left for the healers to work with, not a spark! It wasn't until a few days ago that you started to show signs of recovering, but your magic's still dangerously low. You don't even have enough in the tank to sit a broom right now. Any use and I mean- **any use **of magic before your reserves are fully replenished could destroy your magical core completely. The healers ordered no magic for six months-**none" **Bjorn warned in a serious, no nonsense tone.

"Alright, alright." Harry placated holding his palms up in defeat. "So no magic. I don't need magic to do my job."

"Harry…" Bjorn sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm hardly defenseless." Harry argued. "All I need is my sword and maybe some generic _port keys _for getting around in a pinch."

"You don't have a sword anymore,… remember?" Bjorn pointed out.

Harry's eyes went out of focus for a minute trying to recall… "Oh"

"I'm sorry, Harry" His friend gave his shoulder a compassionate squeeze before explaining. "The council will not approve the forging of a replacement sword until the healers are convinced that you've fully recovered and that's not gonna happen with you out in the field needlessly risking yourself. You've barely taken any time for yourself these past several years. Merlin knows you've earned the time off and besides, you would've had to take a mandatory sabbatical before signing on for another five year term of service."

"But…" Harry began to plead but his commander cut him off before he could start.

"No buts, Harry. The council's decision is final and I have to agree with them. I'm not risking the health of one of my lieutenants."

"Lieutenant ?!" Harry blurted in consternation.

Bjorn quirked a grin. "You heard me right,…Lieutenant." He confirmed Harry's advancement. "It's not official yet, but there'll be a ceremony once you're back on your feet."

"A ceremony?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Just routine, Harry. Come on,… You didn't think we were just gonna write you off as a casualty now did ya? The land needs knights, and the knight's need you."

Harry eyes welled up. "Th-Thanks, Bjorn."

"Thank you, Harry. That stunt you pulled saved thousands of lives. Not to mention placed us in a very favorable light. You've brought great honor to our ranks. Public opinion is at an all time high, such as we've not enjoyed for centuries."

Harry's face fell. "Is that why I'm being promoted, because of politics?"

"Certainly not." Bjorn spat aghast. "The council had you down for advancement before you even took this last mission."

"Ah…" Bjorn cut off Harry before he could voice his objection. "Before this mission was forced on you, I know. Anyway, we've gone over your magical recorder and quite agree with your conclusions. Now, it's just a matter of time before we root the vermin out and see justice done, but that's our worry now. Yours is to heal and regain your strength, **lieutenant**."

"Y-Yes, sir."

Bjorn held his sword hand out to Harry.

Harry gratefully shook his friend's hand.

"I'm proud of you, Harry. I always have been."

"T-Thanks." Harry choked in reply.

Anything further was interrupted by…

"Just what're you playing at "LITTLE MAN?" A familiar voice sneered from the hall outside Harry's room.

"That hex would've worn off in a couple of hours. I'm surprised you even noticed the change, but then again** little-** to- **nothing,** probably seems like the world to some."

A round of guffaws sounded from the guard outside as the other Knights laughed at their fellows' expense.

"Quit flattering yourself, or lying to yourself, as the case may be."

Again more laughter echoed down the hallway.

"If you're that desperate for a date, I know a few ,er_... ladies _that are nonjudgmental, very nonjudgmental?"

Ginny entered the room snickering as laughter wafted from the corridor outside.

"Harry?!" Ginny squealed delightedly upon seeing him awake.

"And that's my cue to leave." Bjorn echoed. He gave Harry a roguish wink and made his excuses, reminding Ginny on his way out…

"Remember,… he's to have **no** _strenuous activity_."

Blushing furiously, Ginny slapped at his arm as he passed by.

Uncertain green eyes met liquid soft brown ones.

Harry was the first to break eye contact, nervously pulling at his sheets trying to cover his bare torso.

"Pity that." Ginny commented in a disappointed tone. "What ever happened to the scrawny boy I used to know?"

Harry flushed slightly at that, but otherwise, made no comment.

Relief, anxiety, joy, rage, and a thousand other emotions poured through Ginny's being at seeing Harry finally awake.

The last several weeks had been absolute hell. Her heart had broke over and again as the healer one day gave up hope and the next,... Harry found a way to hold on once again.

Part of her, (a big part), wanted to pull him in her arms and mother him for all he's worth. Another part wanted to rip him a new one for scaring her half to death.

Mothering him would only send him mixed singles and put them right back at square one. Ripping into him could very well scare him off by forcing his 'nobility complex' into high gear.

_Honesty would have to do…_

Ginny hesitantly approached his bedside. "I-It was worse than the night of the final battle,.. when H-Hagrid carried you up to the castle and we all thought you were d-dead." Ginny reminded him, her voice barely above a frightened whisper.

Harry blinked several times to try and ward off the anguish he was feeling at seeing her like this.

"T-That first week… s-so many t-times the healers thought you were going to… going to…"

Ginny's voice failed and she ground one of her palms against the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry." Harry said guiltily, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm the one who should be sorry." she corrected him.

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Oh, Harry." Ginny sighed. "Can you honestly say you would've done that to yourself, taken things that far, if I hadn't been there? I'm not stupid, Harry. I know what's happening between us."

" G-Ginny, I-I…" Harry tried to deny what she was implying, but her soft hand clamped against his mouth, silencing him.

"Don't, Harry. Just… don't." She pulled her hand away when she was sure that he would let her finish without interrupting. "You didn't save all those people just for them. Mostly you did, but partly … you did it for me, for us." Ginny's eyes searched his with a look of aspiring hopefulness mirrored in them.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Harry?" Ginny challenged him. "Tell me that when you broke up with me at the end of your sixth year that it was what you really wanted? Tell me that I never felt your hand brush past me that night when you went into the forbidden forest to confront Voldemort?"

Harry gaped at her, his eyes wide in stunned surprise.

Ginny smirked at him, a look of triumph shinning in her eyes. "I always wondered if I wasn't imaging it, but now I know. I can see the validity of it in your eyes. You were there, weren't you?" she accused in absolute certainty. "You were under that damned invisibility cloak of yours, weren't you? " Ginny's voice began to falter." Y-You were t-trying to s-say goodb-bye."

Ginny's hand covered her mouth trying to stifle a long overdue sob of pain and regret.

"Tell Me?!" She shrieked at him.

Harry's eyes fell to his sheets, not daring to meet her eyes any longer. "I was there, Ginny." he answered solemnly.

"Y-You were going to,…to… without even saying g-goodbye?" Ginny stammered out, her heart breaking in disbelief.

"I couldn't, Ginny. If I,… If I had stopped,.. if I had,.. with you,..I would've never been able to go thru with it,.. and I had to go thru with it, G-Ginny." Harry's eyes pleaded with hers to understand.

"You didn't have to." Ginny argued.

" I…I was the last horcrux, Ginny. I had to die otherwise Voldemort never could."

"Nooo." Ginny rasped out terrified. " But your,.. he can't,.. he could still come b-back."

Harry shook his head, knowing what she was struggling to understand. He still had a hard time believing the whole thing himself. He'd never talked about this with anyone. Who was there to talk with it about, anyway? Most everyone he had trusted had betrayed him, on some level, that night. He didn't know why he was bothering to tell her about it now? There was no point to it, really. Nothing would come of it. As much as he wanted to tell her everything, including telling her that she wasn't wrong. That he hadn't wanted to break up with her. That he had faced and defeated Voldemort for her as much as he had the rest of the world. He'd done it so she and everyone else could be safe, that they could be together. He didn't know why he told her this now, but he did anyway.

"I did die, Ginny. Voldemort tortured me and then killed me with the _killing curse_, and when he did so, he destroyed the horcrux that was embedded in my scar."

As much as he didn't want to, he told her the rest of it. She deserved to know, if for no other reason than to set her mind at rest.

"Before the curse hit me,… I wasn't thinking about how I would be seeing my mum and dad again, or how I'd be able to be with Padfoot. Do you know what the last thing I thought of before I died was?"

Ginny backed away from him with a terrified expression on her face, her arms wrapped around her waist as if trying to ward off some bone numbing chill of dread. She barely managed to shake her head in answer to his question.

"The last thing I saw before the curse hit me was your face. I thought; at least Ginny's safe now. You would have a chance to fall in love,.. to have a family of your own. I was content with at least that much."

Ginny fled the room in horror, wailing in misery as she flew down the hospital corridor outside his room. Harry ignored the startled guards that stormed into his room; not understanding her reaction and fearing the worst had happened to him.

He couldn't blame her for her reaction. On some level he'd not only expected it but welcomed it. She needed to know. She needed to understand the folly of being associated with him. The horrors that awaited anyone that was foolish enough to ever even consider having any kind of a relationship with him.

Now she could at last be free. She could be free to find love and have a family of her own some day.

Harry twisted himself over the side of his bed and emptied his stomach on the floor of his room.

He tried to tell himself that the nausea he felt was a result of the terrible pounding headache he was suffering and not the revulsion over what he had just done.

At least that was what he tried to tell himself before the pain took over and he passed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry awoke, unbeknownst to him it was two days later.

He'd barely had a chance to orientate himself when a cutting voice snapped.

"Happy with yourself?" Hermione scathed from the foot of his bed.

His eyes went out of focus for a minute as he tried to puzzle out what she was inferring.

It came back in a rush… _Ginny_

"Well, are you?" she demanded, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"I'm ecstatic, can't you tell? Harry snapped back, glaring at her venomously.

Her eyes locked with his in silent combat.

It was several moment before she relented, more so, fearing that upsetting him further would trigger another relapse.

Her eyes softened somewhat. "Why, Harry? Why did you do it?" she pleaded with him, needing to understand.

"You know why." he returned with conviction.

"I'm not talking about why you sacrificed yourself to destroy Voldemort, you arse." Hermione clarified angrily

"I'm asking why you felt you needed to tell Ginny all that? Why frighten her with it?"

Harry's face closed off as he answered in a dead monotone. "If she'd frightened, it's because she should be. Now at last, you and everyone else can finally understand. The Harry Potter you all knew died that night, taking the last horcrux with him. What came back was a shell, an automaton, a soulless killing machine."

Hermione eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as she hissed in warning.

"I told you that I never want to hear that monster shite again and I meant it."

Harry's eyes took on a dangerous blank glare. "Fine then, actions speak louder than words; how many more must I kill for you to arrive at the obvious conclusion that what lies before you is something that the world can do without?"

Tears welled at the corners of her deep brown eyes, but she refused to back down.

"Was it a murderer that stood in the center of the Harpies Pitch and sacrificed himself to save thousands of people?"

"One good deed can hardly erase a lifetime of sin." he returned curtly.

Though she was stunned by the vehemence of his words she couldn't help but appreciate the elegance with which he explained his unwarranted viewpoint.

A hint of a smirk curled the edge of her lips. "I see by your quotation that your more well read than I remember your having been" she mocked. She knew he was trying to scare her off just as he'd done with Ginny. It wasn't a half bad job either.

"I'm a lot of things." He returned cryptically.

"I'm sure." Hermione surmised. "I don't suppose you'd care to enlighten me on what some of those things are?" She let her curiosity take their conversation to more neutral ground.

Harry glared at her. "One of those things isn't gullible, 'Mione". He also was seeing through her attempts to dissuade him from his course.

Though disappointed that he wouldn't let this go, she was at least encouraged that he was still using the affectionate nickname that he and Ron always used with her.

"No, Harry." She agreed. "gullible isn't one of your traits, but neither is being cruel. **So stop pretending that you are!**" She growled at him, having lost her patience.

Several long anxious minutes passed, each glared challengingly at the other. Surprisingly, Harry was the first to back down.

He turned his gaze away from hers. It must have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn his eyes were suspiciously moist, but that couldn't be,… Harry never cried. He'd never let himself be that vulnerable.

"No,…not cruel." He quietly agreed, slumping back into his pillows in exhaustion.

"P-Please go, 'M-Mione" He choked out, covering his eyes with his forearm.

"P-Please, G-Go." His voice trembled and he started to shake.

_OH…MY…GOD He's crying!_

Harry's initial snuffles quickly turned into full blown sobs of abject misery and despair.

It was more than she could have ever hoped for, and so much less than he deserved.

She loathed herself for bringing him to this.

_How could they have done this to him? How could she have let it happen? _

A gentle hand sifted thru his hair, gently stroking him as a soft voice pleaded with him:

"Let it go, luv. Please forgive us. Forgive us and come back to us, Harry. Come back to the people who love and need you. It's time to stop running and come home, baby." she soothed.

Hermione thought he was sobbing harder, was actually encouraged that he was letting out so much pent up emotion.

Too late she realized that he was in pain, when he convulsed and passed out.

_Oh, well spotted, Hermione._ She berated herself, still absently stroking his hair. She was doing it more to comfort herself as he was no longer aware of her ministrations.

After several quiet moments, she tucked him in and silently left his room. She stopped to inform the nurse of Harry's recent episode and proceeded to the visitor's lounge after.

"How is he , Hermione?" Mr. Weasley worriedly enquired of her when she entered the lounge.

She paused, noting all the pensive faces with red hair that waited anxiously for some scrap of reassurance.

"He's in pain." she answered simply.

"Aren't the healers giving him potions for it?" Mrs. Weasley fretted. "Talk to them, Arthur…" She began to demand before Hermione cut her off to clarify.

"Not that kind of pain, Molly, though he is in physical pain as well."

"Oh" Molly Weasley mouthed in realization.

"What can we do?" Charlie Weasley asked the room at large.

"**We** is the figurative word." Hermione echoed. "We are the ones who must prove ourselves worthy of him. Harry need prove nothing to us. Though he vehemently denies it, he's still the same Harry we all know and love. His actions speak for themselves in that regard."

"I'll say, and in spades!" George snorted his agreement.

"Here-Here" Percy agreed.

"I still can't get over it." Bill voiced his own sentiments. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would've never believed it. Merlin himself couldn't pull off a stunt like Harry did at the Harpies stadium. We always knew he was powerful, but this? How is it possible?" Bill shook his head in abject wonder.

"Uncle Harry can do anything, can't he mummy?" Willie added smugly from her mother's arms. To her childlike mind, Harry was the storybook hero.

Fleur noted her husband trying to hide his jealous scowl. He was doing better, but it was still very hard, as it would be for any father, to have to vie for his daughter's affections,… especially with someone like Harry in the equation.

"Almost anyzing, Willie." Fleur murmured with reservation.

"Almost?" Percy questioned.

Fleur shared a significant look with Hermione, who answered for her.

"Almost anything,… except forgive himself."

"It's not his fault what happened to our Fred, it's not!" Molly spat in understanding. "He wasn't even there; he was off sacrificing himself to that monster!" Molly clutched at her husband's hand for support, visibly trembling at the horror Harry must have went thru trying to save the rest of them.

"It iz not his fault, no." Fleur agreed.

"We all know zis now,… but we did not know it zen. Anyone who knows 'Arry, knows how he cherishes the memory of his parents, especially hiz muzzer. To a certain extent, he felt ze same way about you, Molly. You were ze closest zing he had to having her. W-When you… blamed him for Fred zat night, somezing,… I don't know, but somezing broke inside em. 'Arry lost a second muzzer zat night and it wounded em terribly. When Ginny and zen finally, Ron, both denied him, zat… I don't know, but it destroyed somezing very precious." Fleur clutched her daughter to herself, wiping a bitter tear from her eye.

Hermione came to her struggling friend's rescue, "He rarely trusts and adamantly refuses to love or be loved. He's learned that it only leads to pain and heartache. Harry could take a _cruciatus curse_ from Voldemort and still keep coming, but,… I don't think he could take another loss. I think a part of him wants to die. The bigger part of him."

Molly began to sob at that, clutching desperately to her husband.

Hermione barely acknowledged the distraction as she continued. "I think he would have done it himself except for two things." she finished cryptically.

"What? What t-two things?" Ron asked in dread curiosity.

Fleur answered for Hermione. "His immense courage and iz faith."

"Huh?"

"Harry would see suicide as the 'coward's way out'. His courage is too strong for such a consideration." Hermione clarified, and then added further. "The other is his faith. Harry is a devote catholic, like myself."Hermione said proudly. "We believe that the act of suicide is a sin against the 'all father's' gift of life. Such an act is an abomination in the eyes of the lord. Harry wouldn't risk not being able to rejoin with his departed parents, Sirius and Remus, in the next life. "

"Oh" Ron mumbled dejectedly in understanding. He wished, like the rest of them did, that he had never asked.

"Listen everyone." Hermione began taking charge." We've started this thing and I intend we see it through. Don't lose sight of the fact that instead of a few precious days or weeks, we now have about six months to turn things around with Harry. According to Ginny; The First Knight told her that Harry is on a six month medical leave. The significance of that is-**no magic**. So no flying and especially-**no apparition. **He's stuck here, which means he will need a place to stay and round the clock care while he recovers." Hermione pointedly explained.

Molly gasped hopefully. "Do you think he would let us bring him home?"

Hermione grimaced painfully. " Er,.. let's not test his resolve regarding the whole suicide thing, shall we?"

Nervous chuckles of understanding echoed her sentiments. Molly's face fell disappointedly.

Hermione reached out and patted her arm supportively, sharing a brief look with Fleur, who's puzzled expression almost immediately vanished and she excitedly nodded hers in agreement.

"He might,.. It's a long shot , but he might be willing to stay at Shell Cottage though?"Hermione suggested tentatively, eyeing their reactions.

"What?" Bill blurted in surprise, aghast at the prospect.

"Be quiet, Bill" his wife admonished before explaining their idea to the reat.

"Gabrielle has just finished her training for ze term as a healer and has yet to find a suitable position until next term. I'm sure my sister would be more zan 'appy to take care of 'Arry. She was planning on visiting us next month anyway." Fleur suggested with a smirk.

Judging by the grin on Hermione's face, Fleur was following her train of thought perfectly.

"Now hold on." Bill interjected . "Having Harry there is one thing, but Gabrielle? You know how she is on the subject of Harry? _Smitten_ doesn't even begin to describe it. And let's not forget Ginny in all of this either. She's already hurting. How's she gonna feel knowing Harry rejected her and now he's got a potential rival taking care of him 24/7 ?" Bill pleaded.

"I would zink she would be comforted knowing zat 'Arry was in capable hands." Fleur remarked, her eyes dancing merrily at the prospect.

"Comforted?" Bill barked in outrage. "Capable hands?! Oh, you're playing with fire you are." he warned his wife.

"Of all of us, that red hair of hers is no lie." Charlie added sagely.

"Temper like her mother's" her father agreed.

Molly pulled abruptly out of his arms and scathingly reminded him. "The couch has a broken spring, Arthur." she huffed pointedly.

Several people smirked at her inference.

"You could always use one of the boy's spare rooms, Molly dear." her husband suggested innocently.

The brothers guffawed at their mother's expense at that.

"Arthur?" Molly gasped worriedly.

He quirked a suggestive eyebrow at his wife. It was rare that Arthur Weasley took a hard stance against his wife. This was one of those occasions and she knew it.

"I, for one, like the suggestion. Ginny's a big girl and it's time she started acting like one." Arthur reprimanded.

Arthur continued to give his opinion on the matter. "I think a little friendly competition might be just the thing to help that along. Besides, Gabrielle's a lovely girl and I'm sure she too would be very good for Harry."

Molly narrowed her eyes at him and hissed. "I think I should break a few more springs in that couch."

The ladies laughed at that.

"This is hardly a joking matter, folks." Bill tried to reason with his wife. "The last thing we need is a pissed off Battle Mage and a pair of jealous females; one part Veela and the other a red head,… all in our cottage at the same time!"

Fleur waved him off airily. "He cannot use hiz magic and Gabrielle is a professional. If you must worry, zen worry over your sister's legendary temper."

Fleur ignored her gaping husband and addressed her platinum headed daughter. "Would you like to elp auntie Gabby take care of Uncle 'Arry, Willie?"

"Oh yes, Mummy!" Willie squealed excitedly.

"But,..But…?" Bill tried vainly to avoid the coming catastrophe.

His traitorous brothers laughed uproariously at his expense.

"Do you really think he'll go for it?" Ron asked Hermione skeptically, watching as his eldest brother took out his frustration on his other laughing siblings, while Fleur and her daughter plotted happily oblivious.

"On the surface, no." Hermione acknowledged. "But everyone, and that includes the much vaunted Harry Potter, answers to someone higher. I think it's time we had a meaningful chat with Harry's commander. He seems a rather agreeable fellow."

Ron grinned at his fiancé appreciatively. "You're gonna drive him spare, you know? He'll go mental having Gabrielle Delacour hovering over him and then throw Ginny in the mix to boot?!"

"Oh pish." Hermione shushed, slapping him on the arm flirtatiously. "Harry needs a little diversion. It's just the thing for everyone, if you ask me." She smiled evilly.

Ron snorted a laugh.


	8. Chapter 8: Damaged, but far from broken

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Eight: Damaged, but far from broken.**

"Have you lost your mind?!" he bellowed in outrage.

"Now, Harry…" Bjorn tried to placate his young friend. Harry was not receiving the news of his planned convalescence at Shell Cottage well.

"Now, Harry nothing." Harry bolted out of his hospital bed, staggered slightly, (being unused to sudden movements), righted himself and bolted for the door.

Harry tore open the door and slammed heedless into two knights that were guarding his door. Judging by their readiness for this eventuality; they were guarding the door from him, not for him.

Harry's hands shot out catching each knight by a shoulder. Using his hand hold as a fulcrum, he launched himself up and forward, striking each startled man with a knee to the solar plexus.

"Ughh" The two men doubled over from the impact.

Harry used their forward movement to pitch them back into the path of a rapidly approaching Bjorn Dykstra, pulling each man's sword from its sheath in one fluid movement as he continued thru the door, ignoring Dykstra's foul epithets as he tried to untangle himself from the two guards thrown in his path

Harry kicked the door closed and with a half slash of his borrowed sword, cleanly sliced the handle from the door, effectively sealing the door temporarily shut.

He turned to find four more knights with swords at the ready, barring any further escape down the hallway.

Harry held his 'borrowed' swords in a white knuckled fist, considering his options. These were his comrades, his brothers in arms.

The lead knight, Sanders, stepped forward and carefully sheathed his blade, making a show of holding his empty palms outward in a non-threatening gesture.

"Sheath your blades he called over his shoulder to his fellow knights.

A gentle rasp of steel announced the three remaining blades returning to their scabbard homes.

"Would you really use a blade against your brothers, Harry?" he asked disappointedly.

Twin clangs of steel answered his question as Harry's nerveless fingers dropped the swords he'd held moments before.

"I'm sorry, Mike,… brothers."" he apologized softly to his friends and fellow knights. "But I'm not going there. Not there." He pressed emphatically. His eyes searched the hallway before him, desperately seeking some avenue of escape.

The door to his room erupted behind him and a furious Bjorn Dystra stepped thru the rubble of the shattered door frame and entered the hallway.

"Potter!" he snapped angrily.

The rest of the knights present flinched uncertainly at their commander's tone. Harry used their distraction to bolt.

He didn't make it two paces before a _petrificus curse_ slammed into him. His legs and arms snapped to his sides, but his momentum carried him forward , falling ' face first' with a sickening splat, as his face impacted the hospital floor.

He was dimly aware of a gurgling sound and a warm wetness pooling around his face as unconsciousness claimed him.

Several hours later Harry came to back in his hospital bed. If it wasn't for the terrible ache from his nose and the pounding headache, he would have thought he'd only dreamed the whole panicked 'escape scenario'.

After a moment's confusion, he realized that it was the angry voices from outside his room that had awakened him.

"Disgusting! That's what it is, **Disgusting! **Seven of you brutes abusing a poor wounded and defenseless man, for shame!" Molly Weasly's muffled voice scathed from outside.

"Defenseless man?!" Sanders voice echoed his disagreement, with several other muffled voices mumbling their support of his opinion.

"Just which one of you **heroes** is responsible for hurting him, that's what I'd like to know?" Harry cringed at hearing Ginny's irate growl enter the confrontation outside.

"Well, um,… you see…." Sanders began grumbling his part reluctantly.

"Oh,… I see." Harry recognized the warning tone in Ginny's voice. Despite the pain that shot thru his face when he smiled, he could still appreciate the mayhem in store for Mike Sanders.

"Hey, what…?" Sanders voice rang out in sudden alarm.

"Aiyeeee!" he screamed out in pain and fear.

"Let that be a lesson to you,** little** man!" Ginny snidely pointed out, referring to her previous shrinking hex, amidst echoing laughter from the hall outside.

"Ginny!" her mother's voice scolded.

"He had it coming for hurting, Harry, mum." Ginny defended her actions. She'd hit Sanders with an _arse clamping hex ,_and a nasty one at that, judging by the way he waddled away trying to escape further embarrassment.

"Well, hmm,.. He is a knight after all." Her mother reluctantly agreed.

"He's a pretentious git, it what he is." Ginny snorted. "And don't come crying later, Sanders. Your arse was always that big, or else it wouldn't have been such an easy target." Ginny shouted after Sander's whimpering retreat, amidst uproarious laughter from his comrades.

"Come along, Ginny." her mother directed.

"Yes, Mum" she answered meekly- _Meekly-what a crock! _Harry chortled inward.

The door handle to his room turned and Harry steeled himself as Molly and Ginny Weasley marched into his room.

They smiled delightedly at seeing he was awake. " Hello, Har.."

"I'm not going to Shell Cottage." Harry spat cutting Ginny's greeting off.

Without missing a beat, Ginny and her mother both crossed their arms over their respective chests and glared at him.

"Your commander, Bjorn Dykstra, says that you are." Ginny pointed out smugly.

"I'll resign." Harry threatened.

His bluff, (if he was bluffing), did not have the intended reaction. Molly Weasley smiled wickedly at his pronouncement and countered.

"That may be best. I'm sure Arthur could declare you incompetent to care for yourself and the Wizengamot could then court order your placement in an extended care facility,… perhaps the long term ward? I'm told that Gilderoy Lockhart is in need of a new roommate. He does seem to go thru them, the poor dear. Peculiar that, I'm told the last one committed suicide in a fit of despair." Molly ventured absently.

Despite himself, Harry's face paled at her implied threat. He was fairly certain it was a total bluff_,… fairly certain?_

"So what's it going to be, Harry?" Ginny asked in smug assurance.

"What did you do to Sanders, out in the hall?" he distracted

"I hit the git with an _arse clamping hex. _He won't be able to sit or use the loo for the rest of the day." Ginny announced proudly, then added "And don't change the subject."

"It's unlawful to assault the person of a Confederation Knight. It's forbidden. Even a minister can't get away with that, let alone his daughter." Harry suggested with a foreboding gleam in his eye.

Molly and Ginny shared an anxious look.

"Remove the hex and apologize immediately." Harry demanded in a dead monotone that would brook no argument.

"Y-Yes, Harry." Ginny sheepishly agreed, quickly leaving the room.

Heady over his recent triumph over one Weasley female he chanced going for broke, turning his attention on the other Weasley woman still present.

Molly Weasley shifted uncomfortably as Harry quietly scrutinized her with a calculating expression.

She braced herself for the rage that she was expecting from him. What she got instead was shocking.

"You've lost weight and your hair's shorter. You're prettier than I remembered. Ginny has much to look forward to as she's her mother's image." Harry complimented completely oblivious to Molly's gapping reaction.

"T-Thank you, Harry." Molly managed to squeak out once she'd gotten over her initial shock. Her hands fidgeted with her robes and her cheeks turned a pinkish shade.

"I can't go to Shell Cottage." He reiterated, thinking her more pliable now. "Bill does not want me there and Willie deserves her mother's undivided attention.'

Molly quirked a skeptical eyebrow. "You needn't concern yourself with that. You'll have your own room and Fleur managed to procure the services of her sister, Gabrielle,… she's nearly finished her healer training, don't you know?"

Harry fought down a shudder of dread. "No I , er,.. didn't know. How, ah.. fortunate, that. Who's thoughtful idea was all this?" He asked with benign curiosity.

"Hermione's, of course."Molly cooed sweetly

"Of course." Harry growled, echoing in agreement.

"I have my own home where I'll be quite comfortable, thank you." He offered succinctly, as if this settled the matter.

"Ah, yes, ..the mysterious home?" Molly retuned skeptically." No doubt its unplottable or concealed by a _fidelius charm_?" She conjectured.

"Both actually." Harry indicated.

"That being the case, how exactly do your propose to return to your magically hidden home since you can't use magic of any kind for the next six months?"

Harry's face fell.

"I believe your expression answers my question." Molly all but crowed in triumph.

"I'll just hire a room in London and purchase 'in house' care from competent providers. " Harry quickly suggested as an alternative, fighting the panic that was beginning to take hold.

"That is perhaps an option, but not a very solid one. It's a moot point, really,… since your commander has already ordered your placement at Bill and Fleur's." Molly pressed the point softly.

"I'm not going there." Harry growled defiantly.

"Then come to the Burrow. With several of the boys gone, there's plenty of room, and I'm sure that Gabrielle would be flexible enough to make frequent visits." Molly suggested with an airiness that belied her predator instinct to trap him entirely.

"Harry's eyes narrowed to slits. "That won't be necessary, but thank you for the kind offer." he returned politely, struggling to control his temper as Molly pressed.

"So you've decided on the cottage then? Excellent." Molly clapped her hands expectantly.

"No" Harry ground out angrily, losing his patience entirely.

"You have no choice." Molly returned with a hard edge, dropping all pretence.

"They'd be miserable with me there. I'd make them miserable." Harry threatened.

"Is that how you'd like little Willie to see you? She'll be there as well, you realize?" Molly warned.

Harry's scowl turned to a panicked expression.

"Please, don't do this to me,… please?" he all but begged.

Molly's face softened. "Do what, Harry? Make you whole?" she surmised.

"I-I am whole. I just n-need to rest up a bit, that's all." He made excuses for himself. It sounded lame, even to his own ears

"You haven't been whole, not since that night, Harry,… if you ever truly were to begin with? That's our fault. All of us contributed to it, especially me."

"I'm a monster. My enemies..? I-It's too dangerous. I can't defend myself. Willie will be in jeopardy." Harry blurted out in a near panic. His eyes took on a glazed, near wild expression.

"We'll protect you, Harry, all of us." Molly reassured him.

"Not me,… never me. " he struggled to make her understand. "Protect yourselves, do it by staying as far away from me as you possibly can. M-Must protect W-Willie." He was almost babbling now as he aired his terror over the situation imposed on him.

"K-Keep her away from m-me. C-Can't protect n-now. Please, M-Molly. Please?" Harry begged her. He was nearly hysterical with worry.

"I-It's alright, Harry. Bill's setting up additional wards and Arthur's assigning an auror or two to guard the property. Everything will be fine, you'll see." Molly tried to convince him.

"No,... not safe. Not safe." He was near babbling ashis anxiety grew by the second. "N-No magic now. Not safe. No sword. I need a sword…

**A SWORD?!" **Harry bellowed. He was almost irrational at this point, and despite herself, Molly was afraid of him.

Harry tore thru his linens, desperately searching for something that wasn't there.

Harry screams had alerted the guard outside and one of them, (Sanders), stole into the room to investigate, a frightened Ginny hot on his heels.

Whatever was happening, the Knight seemed to understand, because he pulled his own ebony sword from its scabbard and offered its pommel to Harry's anxiously searching hands.

Wild eyed and desperate, Harry seized up the proffered blade and visibly relaxed the moment his fingers curled around the well worn grip of the pommel. He slumped exhaustedly back into his pillows and fell asleep within moments.

Molly backed away from the scene in alarm, clutching her frightened daughter to her, each trying to draw comfort and reassurance from the other, but neither willing to tear their eyes away from the object of their concern, who now lie sleeping peacefully, a gleaming black sword held comfortingly close in a white knuckled grip,… even in sleep..

Molly felt a comforting hand grasp her shoulder and guide her from the room.

"Come with me. " Bjorn Dykstra commanded, his tone nearly as grim as the expression he wore

The First Knight ushered the startled witches into a nearby physician's lounge.

A pair of weary healers was present enjoying a much deserved break. One look at the white caped intruder had both healers scurrying for the door, obviously deciding the cafeteria would afford a better clime.

Normally, anyone other than another healer that dared enter a healer's lounge had better be on emergency medical business, but nobody argued such a necessity with a Confederation Knight, especially the one who wore a white cloak.

Molly and Ginny were barely seated when Dykstra laid into them.

"Ms. Granger led me to believe that Lt. Potter, would be afforded a comfortable and peaceful convalescence?" He questioned sarcastically. "Instead, I find him desperately close to summoning his magic, something he can ill afford attempting under present circumstances without incurring even greater harm, perhaps even irreparable damage upon his person. I was led to believe that your family cared about Knight Potter's wellbeing?" Bjorn Dykstra eyed a shamefaced Ginny expectantly.

"Given your actions at the quidditch match and Ms Granger's assurances, was I misled as to your intentions, Ms. Weasley?"

Before Ginny could formulate an answer a soft knock at the door saved her from further embarrassment.

Knight Sander's poked his head around the door and addressed his Commander.

"A Ms. Granger is here and is asking to join your present discussion, Sir?"

Dykstra's eyes narrowed ominously. "By all means, send her in Knight Sanders." He drawled mirthlessly.

Hermione Granger nervously entered the room and was about to blurt something, but was held in check by a finger pressed to Dykstra's lips, calling for her silence. He motioned her to take a seat next to the two cowering witches that she had undoubtedly come to offer some defense in behalf of.

Several pensive moments passed before the First Knight spoke softly.

"A Knight's life is not one to envy. Too many school boys dream of being knights one day. They fill their head with illusions of grand adventures and dreams of glory. You ladies, I'm told, participated more than most in this nation's last war against Voldemeort. Thus you should know better than most what 'adventure' really means?"

He waited patiently as each in turn nodded their heads reluctantly in understanding. Memories of pain and terror reflected in their eyes.

"A Knight's life is filled with such 'adventures'. Glory; is a medal pinned on one's chest for a job well done, followed by more of the same, or ,…Merlin forbid; promotion. With promotion comes greater responsibility and with it 'greater adventures'. Of all those who wielded ebony blades, none know better what 'adventure' truly means then that young man who now clutches an ebony blade to his sleeping chest. Do any of you know how many knights have survived their 'adventures' to reach retirement years?"

Hermione gulped nervously and began to raise her hand before thinking better of it. She rolled her eyes, cross with herself over her regression to a school girl attitude and simply answered…

"None, sir."

"Correct, Ms. Granger." Dykstra agreed succinctly. "I'm heartened to see that Knight Potter's faith in your academic prowess is not misplaced, however, I'm saddened that said answer comes so readily to your lips given your association with one who holds you in such high esteem."

"I don't …?" Hermione began to ask confused by his implication.

"Understand?" Bjorn answered for her.

She nodded.

"That's because to you it is a simple fact, but to one who's earned the right to wield an ebony blade it is a notion to aspire beyond. None have tried harder, nor are we more proud of, than the courageous young man whom you acknowledge so callously as one of those future statistics."

Hermione sat gaping in stunned disbelief as she played his words over and over in her head.

Ginny and Molly Weasley clutched at each other's hands.

Dykstra was not satisfied that they whole heartedly understood where he was coming from. He intended to make them understand.

"I'm sorry ladies if what I'm about to say offends your delicate sensibilities or even destroys your illusions of the glamour associated with being a Confederation Knight, but… " Bjorn paused to rub his eyes wearily before continuing.

"You know the story of Harry Potter, 'the boy who lived'. You know it better than anyone else alive, but I know the story of Harry Potter- the man,… and I'm perhaps privileged to know it better than any other man alive.

He came to the Stormbridge Institute in late June these five years past, nearly broken, but unwilling to break. You three know well of what transpired for him to have been in said state?"

The three witched nodded sadly in answer. He was at least pleased to note there was no hesitation in accepting their responsibility in this.

"The instructors at Stormbridge are neither compassionate nor gullible. They took it amongst themselves to see if the reputation that proceeded young Mr. Potter was, in fact, earned, or merely propaganda raised by a beleaguered society desperate for a 'hero' to save them from adversity. These selfsame instructors took it upon themselves to try and finish what Voldemort and Harry's once _so called_ **family** could not do and that being to finish the job of breaking him entirely."

"Wh-What happened?" Ginny asked timidly, afraid of the answer.

Bjorn snorted incredulously, lightening the mood of the room considerably in the process.

"Let it suffice to say that Harry broke several of our instructors and emerged himself, far from broken. He went into the fire a bent sword and emerged a weapon the like of which the world has never before witnessed."

"Harry is not a weapon!" Molly Weasley erupted angrily, finally finding her voice and her resolve.

Bjorn smirked at the defiant looks of agreement on her two companions faces. "No,.. no, he is not." He agreed wistfully.

"He is beyond that. His academic achievements nearly surpass his not insubstantial physical and magical prowess, a cunning mind in a finely tuned body. He is a consummate warrior; an unstoppable force of nature. Those same doubting instructors would raise sword and wand in his defense tomorrow, if he were but to ask it of them. There is not a knight in my command who would not place themselves in harm's way to spare him a moment's pain.

There is that about him that inspires men to reach deep within themselves and bring out the very best of what lies within the core of their being. I see by your reactions that you all know well of what I speak?" he conjectured, waiting for them to nod their acknowledgement before he continued.

"Some theorize that it is a manifestation of his magic, which is working in such a way as to influence others to want to follow and protect him. Others just claim it is charisma; a profound nobility that inspires others to follow in his wake. Others still, believe that the father of all magic has placed his hand upon Harry, that the light has chosen its one true champion. I, myself, believe that it is…"

"It's his soul." Hermione offered with dread certainty, interrupting Bjorn and earning a gasp from her two counterparts.

"Yes." Bjorn agreed simply. "He is perhaps some of the best of what man could hope to aspire to; Honor, nobility, diligence, courage, gallantry…. The list is endless and neither one word, nor collection thereof, begins to do justice to the sum of the man. He reveals nothing himself, but all one need is have eyes and an open heart to see that which mortal man may never have been meant to see."

"He's not perfect, nobody is." Hermione argued begrudgingly. "He has a terrible temper and is impulsive and.."

"...Stubborn, proud and reckless. I agree." Bjorn interjected. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not asking that the pope canonize, young Harry. As greater a champion of light as has ever existed, but there's darkness in him, as well. At least he believes there is." Bjorn clarified.

"That's my doing" Molly blurted out dolefully from her place next to Ginny. "I lashed out at him when he was his most vulnerable. Precious minutes later I realized my mistake, but by then it was too late, the damage had been done and Harry was gone from us. I've loathed myself since that day. As terrible as my grief was over Fred's death, it was doubly so over what I did to Harry."

Bjorn sighed his understanding. "Yes, people tend to do terrible, hurtful, things in their grief. What matters now is that you have the chance to make amends." he offered bracingly.

Molly shook her head dejectedly. "I've prayed and prayed for the chance to make amends and now, when it's within my grasp, I-I've ruined things."

"Don't say that, Molly." Hermione tried to dissuade her future mother in-law.

"Oh, Hermione I was completely tactless. I was so overjoyed that we'd have Harry so readily available. Merlin, I was almost gloating the way I rubbed his face in it. So much so, that I threw out Gabrielle Delacour's name into the mix, just to get a rise out of him."

"Gabrielle Delacour?" Ginny hissed her displeasure at the mere mention of the French girl's name. "What does that bint have to do with anything?" She asked her mother warily.

Bjorn cleared his throat drawing the young women's ire away from her already too stressed mother.

"Miss Delacour is a nearly a fully qualified healer and she has graciously made herself available as Knight Potter's personal healer while he recovers.

"Made herself available?" Ginny echoed hollowly. It only took a moment for the pieces to fall into place as Ginny rounded angrily on a suddenly wary, Hermione.

"You did this!" Ginny accused caustically. "You and Phlem!"

Bjorn cleared his throat again. "I take it that I'm missing some pertinent piece of information here?" he questioned the room at large.

Grateful for the distraction, Hermione summarized the events of the second task of the Tri-Wizards Cup, in which he rescued Gabrielle from the mere people. Hermione was beginning to drone on, nervously trying to avoid the coming confrontation from Ginny when Bjorn interrupted instead.

Bjorn held up a hand, silencing the room. "Let me see if I've got the gist of it? Harry rescued Miss Delacour, thereby initiating a life debt?" He waited while the three ladies nodded their confirmation.

"I see. I take it that as she's a close relative of Mrs. Fleur Weasley, née Delacour, and that Gabrielle is at least part Veela?'

"Half Veela" Hermione clarified, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands where they rested in her lap, pretending to be oblivious to the scathing glares Ginny was shooting her way.

"Given that she's half Veela and that there is a life debt owed on her part, I don't imagine I'd be reaching in the assumption that Ms. Delacour is somewhat attracted to Knight Potter?"

"More like a bitch in heat." Ginny growled, glowering at Hermione.

"Ginny!" her mother admonished in a scandalized tone.

"It's true!" Ginny snarled right back in her own defense.

"Ladies, please?!" Bjorn huffed in exasperation.

He rubbed his temples muttering angrily to himself for a moment before addressing the irate witches.

"He did not want to come here, you know? " Bjorn pointed out as he began to lecture. "I thought I knew why at the time, but I fear that I'm only beginning to see the true scope of things." His gaze swept menacingly over the three. Each flinched satisfyingly when his raptor like gaze caught their individual eye.

"Each of you obviously has a vested, _personal interest_ in renewing ties with Knight Potter, but I cannot help but wonder if any of you has even bothered to consider just what Harry wants in that regard,… or doesn't it really matter as far as your personal agenda is concerned?" Bjorn accused.

"Of course, what Harry wants matters to us?" Molly shot back emphatically. "How could it not? He's everything to us. We for…, I forgot that for a moment of insanity and look what's happened because of it? I haven't destroyed just Harry's life, but all of ours. Every day I see the pain mirrored in my children's eyes. I hear the sigh of regret when my husband reads the paper and some article mentions Harry. I watch in heart ache as my youngest son tries to pretend that he's unaffected at Harry's absence from our lives. And I watch helplessly as my only daughter turns down offers of date after date, because her heart longs for the one person she was truly meant to be with, but was denied because of my unthinking cruelty." Molly broke down in sobs of despair at that.

"Partly what you accuse us of is true, Mr. Dykstra, but it is also true that all of us only want what is best for Harry. If that's going away and never seeing any of us ever again, then so be it." Hermione ignored the gasp of denial from Ginny as she plowed forward.

"If that will make him happy, than yes, send him to the other side of the world. Send him as far away from us as he can possibly get,.. but will that truly make him happy?" Hermione conjectured.

"Has it made him happy up to this point? He's been gone from us for over five years, other than the occasional all too brief contact he has with Fleur or me. I, for one, have yet to find even the slightest hint of personal happiness about him, when I'm afforded the rare opportunity of seeing him. Is he happy? Does he seem **Happy** to you, Mr. Dykstra?"Hermione challenged.

"He has his outlets." Bjorn offered. "At times he seems content, but,.. to answer your question truthfully, than I'd have to say that , **no**, he's not happy." Bjorn shook his head disappointedly.

"Outlets?" Ginny questioned suspiciously. "What outlets might those be?"

Bjorn frowned at the young witch. "Whilst I can appreciate the fact that you're 'in love' with Knight Potter, Ms. Weasley." He drew quotation marks in the air for emphasis, rewarded by Ginny coloring nicely. "I can only hope that it is with Harry that you harbor those feelings and not some fantastical representation regarding the " boy who lived'?"

"What?!"Ginny shrieked in outrage. Her embarrassment from only a moment ago forgotten.

"You've got a nerve." Ginny shrugged off her mother's restraining arms. "No, I won't be quiet, mum." she groused.

"I don't care if he is the bloody First Knight or the Prince of Wales. I know how I feel and I know how Harry feels." she railed.

The smug grin that Bjorn had at her expense only served to infuriate her more, that was until he challenged.

"Are you sure, Ms. Weasley? Are you sure that you truly know how Harry feels, or are you just hoping that his feelings mimic you own?"

Ginny's face fell at that. Her righteous indignation of only moments before had fled leaving her numb and uncertain.

_Doesn't he love me anymore? _She's often worried it was so, but always held onto the vain hope that Harry still, and always would, loved her as much as she did him.

Hermione's hand pressed into her own. Despite the comfort it provided, Ginny's breath hitched when Hermione asked;

"You mentioned outlets before, Mr. Dykstra? Is there someone in Harry's life, a girlfriend?"Hermione diffused, while still exploring the possibility that had originally set Ginny off.

"Why do women always assume it's another woman? And witches?" He gasped in frustration.

"Witches are the worst of the lot. I swear the magic makes them all crazy. My wife is non-magical and a finer, more loving wife and mother no man could ever boast, but my daughters…? They take after their mother, but they're both magical, and I swear,... bring a man into the equation and between their hormones and their magic ,… insanity reins free to terrorize our household!" Bjorn complained vehemently.

"You've a family, Lord Knight?" Molly asked in surprise.

Bjorn blinked several times in puzzlement,… _hadn't he already answered her question?_

"My apologies I seem to have gotten off track? To answer your question is to belay the obvious, but yes, Mrs. Weasley, I am married and gratefully so. My wife has chosen to love me despite my calling. She has chosen to live her life at my side, be it for as little as a week or the hope of a lifetime. She further proves her faith and devotion blessing our union with three wonderful children. Two daughters: each the picture of their breathtaking mother, and a fine son, Jeffrey. Incidentally, Harry is the Godfather of my son, and no finer role model or attentive mentor could my son have." he admonished proudly.

The three witches shared a gob smacked look. "Harry is your son's godparent?" Hermione managed to squeak out in disbelief.

Bjorn smirked in amusement. "Why so incredulous? Harry is infinitely patient with and fiercely protective of children. He delights in teaching and experiencing the wonder of the world around him, through Jeffrey's eyes. Jeffrey adores him, his mother too, for that matter." Bjorn rolled his eyes meaningfully.

"He-He's actually the child's Godfather?" Molly continued skeptically.

Bjorn's initial puzzlement evaporated in sudden understanding. "Ah, I perceive. You're shocked that he would accept such a charge? Well, to be perfectly candid, he wanted none of it initially, but Emma, that's my wife, … Emma was having none of that. After a week of excuses that she pretended to eventually, if begrudgingly, accept. She invited Harry to a barbecue at our house the following weekend. She sandbagged him good! Harry shows up in shorts and a t-shirt only to find the family all dressed in our Sunday best and our priest handy to perform the christening. Him being the devote Catholic that he is, he goes along with it, not daring to incur Father Damien's wrath. Harry's up there in front of the whole family; smiling his lines to the priest and handling Jeffrey like he's made of glass. All the while he's shooting death glares at Emma, who's laughing fit to bust while snapping off pictures like she owns the Kodak Company. Har-Har!"

Bjorn wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he continued wistfully "He wouldn't have it any other way now."

Ginny wiped a tear from the corner of her own eyes, but for an entirely different reason.

_That could've been our child, had things gone differently._

"Why did he panic and withdraw like he is now?" Hermione unexpectantly questioned, dragging everyone back to the original reason for this impromptu meeting.

Bjorn's previous good humor instantly bled away.

"Ah well, that was a nice side trip, too short as most vacations are. I had hoped to forgo this, but I see Harry's reference of your tenacity is well founded, even commendable." he complimented.

Hermione blushed slightly at the praise.

He turned his attention to Molly and Ginny. "What you two witnessed in that room is my responsibility. The end result of my unthinking pride and arrogance. What I tell you now is to be held in the strictest confidence. I must have your sworn oath on it?"

Each witch gave her oath on her magic and her life without the slightest reluctance.

When they'd finished, Bjorn paused briefly to give their magic a chance to take hold before continuing.

"Harry was newly commissioned into the knights. Can you imagine it; right out of Stormbridge and a Battle Mage to boot?! He hit the ground running and never let up. Most men take a good six months to a year before they're ready for field work and even then their partnered with a senior their first several missions. Harry insisted on going solo right off the mark. His superiors all thought him head strong and arrogant, but I knew better. Yes,… I knew better." Bjorn paused and a haunted expression ghosted across his face as he remembered back.

"Despite their misgivings, Harry managed to convince the counsel to give him a chance to prove himself. He asked for just two weeks , and if he could solve the case he was assigned , he'd earn the right to go it solo from then on; if not, then he was to be partnered and, or assigned with whatever task the council saw fit.

The council agreed and thought to put one over on Harry s to teach him his place. With that in mind, they gave him the coldest case file that was still on the books. Many a detective and scholar had wasted more than their fair share of time trying to solve that case, myself included. Stormbridge had taken to assigning it for a candidate's doctoral studies. They saw it as a' no win' scenario.

Harry had so much experience from battling Voldemort all those years that it came as second nature to him. In ten days he brought in a pair of suspects with enough evidence against them to see them in Azkaban for a hundred life sentences. Fortunately, the dementor's rendered that a mote decision and kissed the pair of murderous swine an hour into their incarceration after a failed escape attempt that cost a guard's life.

Harry was issued a citation for meritorious service and, (as is custom within the Confederation), his responsibilities grew with each added success."

The three witches exchanged incredulous looks, but it was Hermione who, of course, haltingly expressed the skeptic disbelief the three shared.

"But how could he possibly, I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm awed by Harry and his accomplishments. I know what he's capable of, probably more aware than most, but.. to solve something that experts have been unable to solve for years, and then to do it all in a little more than a week?"

Bjorn smirked in a rather condescending fashion. "I agree that it sounds impossible, but perhaps not so much once you realize the big picture where Harry's concerned."

"The big picture?" Ginny echoed in wonder.

Bjorn's face darkened as he continued making his point. "As I said before, I knew better." He began cryptically.

"I had my suspicions about Harry , but they were as yet unfounded, still are,… but, I digress." He amended on seeing their puzzled expressions.

"Like I said previously; it is my shame, my pride and arrogance that are responsible for what you saw from Harry. I knew better then to let him go into dangerous situation after dangerous situation without the proper back up, despite his wishes to the contrary. I, like the rest of the council, just thought that's how he preferred it. That he just preferred to work alone, or that it freed him of the responsibility of having to worry over the safety of a partner and the like. It never occurred to me that in actuality it was for both of those reasons and one other." Bjorn let off grimacing painfully.

"W-What other reason?" Molly Weasley asked in a frightened voice.

Bjorn eyes pierced hers accusingly as he spat. "That he had a death wish."

Molly Weasley tried to stifle her sobs of dismay as she bolted for the door.

She never made it even half way before the First Knight's arm shot out and barred her way.

"Stay!" he demanded. His voice laced with the power for which the knight's were legendary.

He gently, but firmly guided her back to her chair, once seated he addressed both her and her two sniffling companions.

"Don't any of you move from those chairs until I've finished." he warned in a low tone that promised dire consequences if disobeyed.

Bjorn began pacing as he recanted a story that he clearly wished to forget.

"We received reports of magical children disappearing in the lower Amazon regions of South America. Most of the children were never seen or heard from again. Others,…?" he shuddered slightly before continuing his train of thought.

"O-Others returned to the home villages, only they were changed. They were feral, vicious, like rabid animals. Some murdered their entire families, others did worse. They had voracious appetites for flesh...human flesh. They spoke rarely and when they did so it was in a strange, ancient dialect, with voices unlike their own. Rehabilitation was pointless as the little terrors could not be contained, let alone reasoned with. They were all but impervious to magic, nothing short of decapitation or cleansing fire could spell their end,… and a merciful end it was for all concerned."

"It sounds as if they were zombified?" Hermione conjectured, her cool logic overriding her revulsion at the topic of conversation.

"Would that it had been that simple?" Bjorn conjectured wearily.

"The children, well,... their bodies were not dead. They were, in fact, possessed by dark spirits and demons." Bjorn's face paled with the telling.

"Merlin above!" Molly hissed in abject horror. "Who would do such a thing, and to a child?!"

"His name was Lasvinius." Bjorn answered bluntly. "He and his cult of acolytes worshiped the ancient dark gods of Samaria. The nameless ones of old, whose crimes against humanity were so foul in nature that to even speak their forbidden names draws their unwanted attention and offends the ears of the benevolent Gods of light.

I was new to my station. The white cloak of command was to me a symbol of personal pride, not the heavy mantle of responsibility that comes with the wisdom of the wearing. It was from me and me alone that belongs the responsibility for the decision of sending Harry alone into that den of evil. I unknowingly sent one lone knight to do the work of a task force. Then, in my arrogance, I sent our reserves out on ancillary missions that were of secondary priority. I was drunk with my new found authority and wanted desperately to make a name for myself. To make my mark in history by having the highest success rate of any First Knight that came before me.

I unthinkingly sent my friend, my protégé, into an unwinnable situation against insurmountable odds. Of course, I hadn't known that at the time. Our reports had been sketchy at best?" Bjorn paused. His eyes out of focus as he struggled with memories that he wanted desperately to forget.

After several anxious moments he continued his tale.

"I sent Harry in,… and Harry, being Harry, did what he does best. He ferreted out Lasvinius and his zealots.

Harry wasn't there four days when his reports came back fast and furious; _Dozens of children possessed. Whole family's destroyed. A compound in the deep Amazon run by dark wizards numbering between one hundred to a hundred and fifty in number, guarded by nundus, zombies and dozens of possessed children."_

Bjorn wiped a tunic sleeve across his perspiring brow. "The numbers seemed impossible. I-I thought Harry was exaggerating. How could a dark force that size have possibly even formed, let alone be openly operating in relative secret? I knew Harry. He isn't given to panicking in error, but I let the heady weight of my new office cloud my better judgment and I ordered him in, not on a reconnaissance mission as would have been the prudent choice, but I ordered him to search out and destroy all hostiles with extreme prejudice. He initially refused my command. He argued that the children were innocent victims, that they still might be recovered?"

Bjorn paused, rubbing at his chin and shaking his head regretfully.

"L-Like I said,.. I was new to my post and in many ways, wholly undeserving of it. "He confessed. " I- I accused Harry of cowardice." Bjorn ignored Hermione's startled gasp at his confession and continued.

"I threatened him to either fulfill his mission or turn in his sword!"

"H-How could you?" Hermione shot out of her chair, incensed.

"How could I not?" Bjorn returned with no little shame lacing his words. "To begin with; No Knight has ever refused the order of a superior. I knew what I had in Harry. I knew the odds were better than favorable that he could successfully complete his mission. I also knew from our limited intelligence that the affected children could not be saved. The demon possessing them would destroy their hosts before willingly giving them up, thus freeing the demonic spirit to seek out another host and another and another and etc… That said I do not seek to defend my actions for there can be no defense. I sent one lone man to do what an entire team would have been hard pressed to accomplish."

"W-What happened?" Molly inquired with no little trepidation.

"Harry happened." Bjorn returned with dread emphasis.

"Within hours of my last contact with Harry, our magical sensor devices began picking up magical discharges that were off the scale. Too late, I received the reports upon my return to base. I dispatched one of our finest support teams, but by the time they'd arrived the area was a desolate wasteland. Two square kilometers of rainforest was utterly destroyed. The area was saturated with so much dark magic that our best researchers hypothesized that nothing will ever grow there again for a hundred years. Blood and gore littered the landscape, but despite that, not one intact body was to be found.

Most of that team was in counseling, trying to come to terms with the carnage they witnessed that day. I personally think that most of them will nightmare over it the rest of their lives."

"A-And H-Harry?" Ginny stammered out fearfully.

Bjorn shook his head. "As I said, not one body was found, though we did find Harry's ebony blade pierced through his black cloak, in the center of all that devastation. His cloak was the plain black of his brethren back then. This was before the time that he insisted upon wearing that damnable bloody handprint that became his infamous sigil.

We had mistakenly thought that this was his symbolic way of stating that not only was the mission accomplished, but that he was resigning his post and turning in his blade.

I-It never occurred to me, t-to any of us,… that he had been c-captured?" Bjorn's voice choked up shamefully.

For long minutes, Bjorn stared vacantly out the lounge window, oblivious to his waiting audience.

Hermione was about to urge him to continue, when his voice came in a low monotone.

"Nineteen days it was. Nineteen days later when our satellites' magical scans picked up a power surge the likes of which only God has ever witnessed. Nineteen days later we found our lost b-brother." Bjorn's voice broke off in a sob of despair, overcome by the pain and guilt he felt over Harry's captivity.

"W-What happened ? " Hermione summoned up her courage to ask.

Bjorn slumped dejectedly into the chair across from them. "It would be easier to state what didn't happen?

It wasn't until weeks later that Harry was finally able to talk about it. I don't think he's ever divulged all that happened to him, nor do I think he ever will. Without going into too much detail, let me impart this:

For nearly three weeks the remnants of Lavnius's once substantial dark force, t-tortured him. Night and day they inflicted unimaginable harm upon Harry, but he wouldn't break. They wanted him, you see. Not for information, not as a double agent, but as a vessel. They recognized his potential. How could they not, when he had nearly decimated their entire ranks single handedly.

Harry's magical prowess is so strong that he is an ideal candidate, no, not for some lowly demonic possession for that would be a waste. Harry's magical presence is so profound that Lavinius realized for him a far greater potential. Harry's body and magical aura could well sustain the rigors of housing one of the nameless dark ones themselves!"

"B-But he would have to be willing. No being, not even a g-god, can inhabit a body permanently unless the host willingly gives himself over to the invading spirit." Hermione lectured, more to reassure herself than the others.

Bjorn nodded his painful agreement. "Hence the reasoning behind Lavinius' motivational mistreatment. He need only give his consent, it matters not how that consent was obtained. Thus, Lavinius tortured Harry endlessly, thinking to break his resolve in that he would willingly agree to abdicate control of his flesh. Like waves upon a rocky shore, Harry withstood all the fiend could throw at him."

Bjorn paused to acknowledge the three witches in front of him. "I suppose we have your Voldemort to thank for Harry's resilience?" he asked bitterly, already knowing the answer.

Bjorn continued without bothering to wait for an answer to his half question, half accusation.

"I-It wasn't until the nineteenth day that Lavinius finally found the chink in Harry's armor. It was then, after he'd exhausted every avenue of bodily torment his maniacal mind could devise, that he alighted upon a different tact.

He brought a young blonde girl before Harry's barely coherent wreck and proceeded to eviscerate the child before his very eyes. As the poor child spilled her life upon the jungle floor; Lavinius promised a repeat performance with every child in the neighboring village if Harry did not relinquish all claims to his flesh.

"Nooo!" Hermione breathed out in frightened understanding. She was the only one still talking at this point.

Bjorn's eyes shifted to hers. "I see you perceive."

Hermione nodded. "He couldn't,… he wouldn't allow ,… n-not to a c-child!" Hermione tried to stammer out her understanding. She rocked back and forth hugging her arms protectively around herself.

Ginny and Molly were clutching each other desolately, sobbing as Bjorn finished his tale.

"Harry has ever been very protective of children, so much so that he would do anything to keep one from harm. But, neither could he give into the fanatic's demands. Harry knew that his body in the control of a Dark God would spell the end of the light's hold upon our world. Untold children would suffer a fate far worse than the one writhing in agony before him. He had no other option save one.

Summoning the last vestiges of his strength Harry pulled all the magic from his core and summoned a 'Wizard's Wrath'. He gave his life over in the intent to take all of his enemies with him in one horrific blast as discharged his entire core, the power of his very soul.

It was this burst of magical energy that tripped our sensors. Tripped?! Hell, it fried them to a crisp!

Despite the vast distance, we arrived in force less than a half hour later. We found Harry's torn and bloodied form on his knees, clutching the lifeless body of a once beautiful, now ruined husk of a blonde headed girl.

The two of them were poised at the epicenter of a charnel house of complete and utter devastation. The burnt husks of Lavinius and his ill fated remaining followers littered the landscape, trees and vegetation smoldered and collapsed to ash upon the blackened jungle floor. Nothing save Harry's sobbing form and the lifeless child, remained unscathed over an entire kilometer radius.

When his brethren tried to relinquish the dead child from his desperately clutching embrace, he raged at us. Had his magic not been entirely spent, we would have suffered the same fate as Lavinius and the jungle graveyard around him. As it was, even weaponless and mortally wounded, it took six of his fellow knights to restrain him. Some of those in the hall outside have the scars to prove the difficulty of the task. None among them have sought the removal of those self same scars. It is a matter of pride amongst them.

Their pain was as nothing compared to his, and not a one of them chooses to forget it."

Bjorn shifted his gaze to Ginny's tear filled eyes. "Sanders, bears such a mark on his left forearm. He is as proud of it as if it were your island's 'Order of Merlin'. That fact that he was able to comfort Harry by relinquishing his blade temporarily to Harry's hand will never be spoken of aloud, but will undoubtedly bond the two for evermore, and each will be grateful for it.

Remember this when next you think to have a bit of amusement at Sander's expense. He could block any spell you might throw his way. He does not do so out of respect for Harry. When you make such an attempt to harm his person, even in jest, you will effectively be harming Harry as well. They are brother knights. What you do to one of us, you do to all, Ms. Weasley."

Ginny wiped at her eyes and stammered apologetically. "I-I didn't t-think?"

Bjorn waved her off. "No harm has been done, in fact I believe the lads have appreciated, even enjoyed, the distraction versus worrying over our young friend.

I only tell you this so you may remember in future why it is that those in the know find it abhorrent to so much as even consider bringing harm to the person of a Knight. Few in history have suffered anything even remotely on a par with what Harry has suffered, but all of them have sacrificed much so that you may sleep safely at night. They deserve your utmost respect whether you have known it or not, but I digress.

Indulge me a bit longer so that I may complete this story. We brought Harry back to our medical bay in chains." He held up a hand to forestall their cries of immediate outrage at hearing this.

"We tried to stun him- nothing. The weeks of torture had inured him to all but the most potent of _hexes_. We dumped several _calming droughts_ and even a couple of _dreamless_ _sleeping potions_ down his throat, but it might have been water for all the good it did. There was no magic left in him for the potions to work on. He was thrashing so badly that he was tearing open his wounds as fast as we could close them.

It wasn't until his hand closed upon the hilt of one of his brother Knight's blades that he finally calmed. The second his hand freed Jesop's blade from its scabbard, we feared we were in for the fight of our lives, but within moments he visibly calmed and was asleep only seconds after his fingers closed around the hilt. It's cool heft finally bringing him solace.

He cried out nearly every night during the days of unconsciousness that followed. Despite his physical and magical exhaustion; he still had horrific nightmares, each night reliving anew the havoc Lavinius' reaped upon his person. It was during those first fitful nights that he unconsciously cried out much of what happened during those nineteen days.

It was weeks before he recovered enough to begin training anew. It was longer still before he consciously told us some of what happened to him during those nineteen days. He, of course, left out the worst of it.

I, myself, bore silent witness one night. I listened, at first, in morbid curiosity. Later, it was in frozen horror that I relieved Harry's agonized screams. Never once did he beg mercy. Never once did he cry out to his mother or beg his creator for release. Only once did his fevered mind call out a single name into the darkness. Softly, reverently he spoke a name that was to him a lifeline, a reason to continue on when a lesser man would have gladly died and spared himself further torment." Bjorn left off pointedly.

"W-Who did he call out to?" Ginny asked in dread hope. Too afraid of the answer, too afraid not to know.

Bjorn smiled wanly and replied. "Though I am sorely tempted to say, out of respect for him, I will not."

Ginny's face fell at that.

After a long and cleansing pause, Bjorn delivered what he knew would be an unpopular decision.

"In light of today's events, I've changed my mind regarding Harry's placement during his convalescence."

He held up his hand to forestall the torrent that was soon to follow their gasps of denial.

"Though I have complete faith in Ms. Delacour's healing abilities, I do, however, have my reservations regarding you ladies' abilities to allow him to rest peacefully. I will not subject him to an emotional 'tug of war' that he can ill afford in his weakened state. Despite your promises to the contrary, you've readily proved here today that you cannot remain neutral where Harry is concerned."

Bjorn sighed in exasperation, his fingers rubbing the tension from his temples.

"He did not want to return to the British Isles. Not by any stretch of the imagination did he return here willingly. I was loath to send him, even more so to send him alone as your husband, the Minister, demanded, Mrs. Weasley." Bjorn pointed out to the Weasley matriarch.

The women held themselves back with guilty expressions at that.

"Is it not enough, especially knowing what you now do, that you would force his return here just to assuage your own sense of guilt and remorse, when it will undoubtedly be him who pays the piper?"

"You can't believe that we wanted him to get hurt. We only want him to know that he still has a family. That he's loved and wanted." Mrs. Weasley pleaded understanding.

"His injuries are of his own accord, after a fashion, but what transpired here today, well, that's on your heads, now isn't it? Instead of easing his mind, what did you do? You teased and goaded him. You took advantage of his weakened condition to try and exploit your own ends,… and he being a Knight yet?" Bjorn questioned their motives distastefully.

All three women lowered their eyes sniffling shamefully under Dykstra's incriminating glare.

"I shall have Knight Potter transferred to the Confederation Medical Center on the morrow. Once he recovers, he may return to Britain, if he so chooses. Neither I, nor the ruling council will order him to do so, against his will, ever again. Given your past histories and continued conflicting interest where Knight Potter is concerned, I suggest he not consider returning to these troubled shores for many years, if at all. You have proven yourselves too immature and ungracious to be afforded the luxury of his return in the immediately foreseeable future."

Ginny bolted out of her chair at that, pleading desperately for him to reconsider.

"No! Please, p-please give us another chance. I'm begging you! Don't take Harry away from me, er, from **us **again?"

Bjorn's initial startled response faded into a semblance of that same wane smile he held before when describing the incident of Harry calling out a particular name in his subconscious.

"It is perhaps to you that I am most sorry that things have occurred the way they have, Ms. Weasley. What I do, I do for Harry's own personal safety and wellbeing. It is a lesson that I have learned well and endeavor not to repeat the mistakes of. Please remember that I am not taking Harry away from you. He is free to return at anytime if he so chooses. I am his superior officer. I am also his friend and brother knight. I would not willingly keep him away from any of you if he did not wish it so." Bjorn placated with a half smile of regret.

"Then let me come with him. Let me help take care of him?" Ginny begged.

"Ginny?" Her mother began, but Bjorn cut her off.

"And why would I entertain such a notion, ?" He queried with feigned innocence. He hoped she would provide him the reason for which Harry had called out _**her**_name that one time during the night.

"B-Because I love him. I always have and I always will." Ginny admitted unashamedly.

Molly Weasley gapped at her daughter's boldness, but Hermione,…Hermione was crowing silently:

_Go, Ginny, Go!_

"Well, that's a relief." Bjorn returned vaguely with a churlish grin. "It's about time one of you admitted your feelings."

Ginny seized upon this , ignoring her gasping mother. "He feels the same way?"

Bjorn's eyebrows shot up surprised by her forwardness. "I think that's something you should ask him isn't it?"

"He'd never admit it, even if he did." Hermione interjected in her excited friend's behalf.

"Really?" Bjorn asked incredulously. "Odd then that he's told my wife how much he loves her and values her friendship. He tells his godson and Jeffrey's sisters that he loves them every time he sees them."

All three witches stared blankly at the man as if he'd just proclaimed the sky was pink and grass was blue.

Bjorn waved his hand in front of their blank faces to no discernible effect.

"I really must research this phenomenon? " He mumbled interested. "I wonder if it's just the magic or if it's in combination with the female hormonal state?" he conjectured mischievously.

Hermione was the first to shake off her shocked state of disbelief.

"He's friends with your wife?" Hermione began tactfully.

"Obviously, he and Emma are quite close. It's probably the fact that she's non-magical. I think he finds her more stable and less threatening than some witches." he surmised pointedly with a smirk.

Hermione shot him an indignant glare that he seemed to actually appreciate, but otherwise she held back the scathing remark on the tip of her tongue.

"He visits you then? I mean he visits at your home?" Molly asked uncertainly.

"Quite often, yes. Though it's never enough for the girls and Jeffrey, nor Emma for that matter. Harry is an absolute pleasure to have around. The children absolutely adore him. He occasionally minds the children so that Emma and I can enjoy some, er,- private time together. Last year he took thethree of them to Disney World for the weekend. The children talked of nothing else for months afterward. Either that, or beg us endlessly to take them to visit Harry at his ranch. They're already walking on air anticipating Harry's big blowout at the end of July." Bjorn confided.

The three blank stares returned, only this time they shared their stunned reactions with each other.

Bjorn barely repressed the chuckle that escaped his throat, fighting the urge to full out laugh at their expressions.

_Oh, this is just too good._

"Ranch?... B-Big blowout? Hermione questioned.

"Minding the children? W-Weekend at Disney World? What's a Disney World?" Molly asked totally stymied.

Bjorn raised his hands patiently. "Obviously you know very little of the man that Harry's become, let alone how he lives or what he does in his spare time. I suggest you reconnect with him, though how that's to be accomplished at this junction, I cannot fathom? He will be leaving the hospitaltomorrow. As I am not without sympathy to your plight, I will allow you and yours to visit in a limited capacity, tomorrow morning. If, however, anyone of you take it upon yourselves to heap any further emotional duress upon Knight Potter,…" Bjorn's features twisted into a cruel grimace and his words turned to icy malevolence,

"Then your entire family will feel the wrath of the Knights. Do I make myself abundantly clear**, ladies**?

The three witches nodded apprehensively in understanding.

"Good. Then you may visit Harry, tomorrow morning. That is, of course, If he is willing to receive you?" Bjorn amended pointedly.

"Couldn't we just look in on him on our way out" Molly simpered.

"Tomorrow morning, ladies." Bjorn returned in a voice that brooked no argument.

"Yes, sir." Hermione agreed and quickly ushered the others out of the door before he changed his mind again.


	9. Chapter 9: Gone again

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Nine: Gone Again**

It was a harried, but excited group of well wishers that made their way toward the door of Harry's room the next morning. If it hadn't been for their auror escort, they'd have never made it thru the enormous crowd gathered outside. Once word of Harry's scheduled departure from St Mungo was made public, the press had descended in droves around the hospital, blanketing every avenue of exit.

They passed through a gauntlet of knights lining the hallway, each resplendent in dress uniform. They were Harry's honor guard, an audacious, but heartfelt display of support and unity.

At the head of the column was the First Knight, Bjorn Dykstar waiting patiently with Harry's own freshly laundered dress uniform ready to hand.

The medals that adorned the chests of the knights they passed paled by comparison to those displayed by that of the First Knight's.

A solid square of ribbons denoting many nations' highest awards, blanketed the First Knight's heart. The ribbons displayed on Harry's own uniform, (which Dykstra held reverently in his hands), covered nearly the entire left side of Harry's night black tunic.

All eyes of the arriving family were drawn to a display that few people had ever been afforded.

Ron Weasley was the first to comment as he gasped out in shock. " Merlin above! Two Orders of Merlin, the French Legionnaire's Cross, The American Wings of Freedom, A Russian Gold Wand,… the world's top honors..there's so many?! It's unbelievable! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I'd never of believed it."

"And well you should not have." Bjorn Dykstra added proudly, patting his hand fondly over the ribbons of Harry's tunic. "No one, save the knights gathered here and the ruling council of the ICW has ever beheld such a sight before. For no one knight has ever received so many commendations in the history of the ICW. "

"It's beautiful mamma" Wilhelmina whispered to her mother. "Why doesn't Harry where it when he visits?' She wondered in childlike simplicity.

"It iz not his way, little one." Fleur answered her daughter. " ' Arry would see et as bragging. He does not crave such attention being drawn to him. Et makes him uncomfortable."

"We don't want him to be unhappy, do we Willie, dear?" Molly Weasley chimed in.

"No, Grandmamma."Willie shook her head for emphasis.

"Indeed we do not." Fleur agreed.

"Still, .. I wish he'd wear it sometimes." The child added in disappointment.

Bjorn stepped up to Ginny Weasley and pressed the uniform toward her gapping form. "Actually, I was hoping that you might help convince him to wear it today."

"M-Me? Why…?" Ginny stammered out uncertainly.

"Just this once, I'd like the general public that's waiting outside to see the man for who and what he truly is, not all that 'Hand of Death 'rubbish he hides his true self behind. He's a hero; the like of which the world may haps has never seen before nor will again. He deserves the public's utmost respect. Though after the events that landed him here, I hardly think there are any doubters left among the public sector?" Bjorn smirked pointedly.

"B-But why me?' Ginny asked doubtfully, still not so much as daring to the uniform he was holding out to her beckoningly.

"Because you are perhaps the only person who could possibly convince him to do so? I'm not sure he'd accept it coming from anyone else. Even my own Emma couldn't get him to wear it for the Knight's Ball last year."

"A dance?" Hermione couldn't help herself and blurted out incredulously. "Harry actually willingly went to a dance?"

Bjorn shot them all a questioning grimace. "Why does everyone keep responding that way regarding Knight Potter's activities?" he questioned in genuine surprise, before explaining.. "As public figures all knights are by necessity well versed in good manners and etiquette, including dance instruction. Knight Potter comports himself most elegantly."

"Really?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Show me a fine swordsman and I'll show you a graceful dance partner." Bjorn answered sagely.

"Oh, I get it." Ron suddenly understood the methodology. "Dance instruction helps with their weapon's forms and footwork."

Bjorn touched his nose to confirm that Ron was on target.

Bjorn turned his attention back to Ginny. "You get him to wear his uniform and I'll make sure you've got an invitation to the Knight's Ball this year. I assume you're as good on the dance floor as you are in the air?"

Ginny smirked for an answer and took Harry's uniform from Bjorn. "It's a deal."

Steeling her resolve, she knocked softly on Harry's room door and after a polite pause, entered and called out his name softly.

"Harry?"

Several moments passed before Ginny returned with a puzzled expression. Her anxious brothers were to notice her reaction as they had been wagering on her success the moment she entered his room.

"Where is he?" Ginny asked, still clutching his uniform in her hands

Bjorn's eye brows shot up. "Where is he?" He repeated incredulously. "What do you mean, 'where is he?!"

"He's not in his room. I even checked the loo." Ginny blushed faintly at that.

Bjorn stepped up to the pair of guards at Harry's doorway. "Explain?" He growled abruptly.

The two shared a puzzled look before one answered. "No one's been in, no one out, sir. Not since the healer stopped in briefly last night."

Bjorn brushed past to check the room himself, barely waiting for the guard to finish his explanation.

Harry's bed was made, mage fashion, as taught to cadets at the Strombridge Institute. Bjorn's blood turned to ice as he slipped his hand underneath the pristinely white pillow at the head of the bed and felt an envelope waiting beneath.

First year cadets left messages for one another beneath their bed pillows as talking was not allowed in their sleeping quarters.

Bjorn pulled the envelope out and found that it, not surprisingly, was addressed to him.

Reluctantly he tore open the envelope and read the waiting missive, already knowing what he'd find.

_Bjorn,_

_It is with deepest regret that I do formally tender my resignation as a Confederation Knight, effective immediately upon your receipt of this letter._

_I can no longer discharge my duties as I am now without the use of my magic and my healers have informed me that it is doubtful that my magical core will repair itself in its entirety, if at all._

_I leave my charge with a heavy heart as the "knights" have become in many ways my family these past few years in which I have been privileged to have been counted amongst you._

_Please, do not seek me out. I ask that you respect my right to anonymity as a private citizen._

_ With warmest regards to all,_

_ Harry James Potter_

_P.S. Express my continued affections for your family, though I will, of course, only remain in contact through distant correspondence as my presence would only place them in at risk as I can no longer effectively protect them._

_Give Jeffrey my tunic… he'll grow into it one day!_

Bjorn carefully folded the letter, magically shrunk it and placed it carefully in his breast pocket.

"Damn it, Harry!" He growled under his breath remorsefully.

Bjorn Dykstra stepped into the hallway with a face as dark as a thunder cloud. He ignored the pensive stares he received from the waiting family, instead barking out orders to waiting honor guard of knights that lined the hallway.

"Knights four thru ten, I want the entire hospital searched, two by floor. I want Knight Potter found and found now! Capture only, gentleman. Merlin help the man who does more than stuns Potter, understood?"

Sir!" Boot heels clicked as a chorus of men's voices rang out their eagerness to obey.

With a swirl of black capes, the indicated knights set about their task with precision

"Eleven thru fourteen seal all exits. No one leaves the hospital without first having passed your personal inspection. Merlin, help the man who lets Knight Potter get away. Remember, he is to be detained only."

"Sir. Yes, sir!" Four more voices acknowledged before disappearing with certain efficiency.

"Fifteen thru twenty," Dykstra called out to the last of his waiting knights still positioned within the rapidly evacuating hallway. "Set up a net at the local muggle air ports, and railways. Do not, I repeat, do not let Harry Potter leave this island."

More voices called out their confirmation and within moments only Dykstra and a thoroughly perplexed group of well wisher's remained.

"He's left then?" Ron was the first to ask.

"He left a letter of resignation in his room." Dykstra confirmed vacantly.

Arthur Weasley blanched at that, but managed to school his features and ask diplomatically. "I take it by your actions that you are not accepting his resignation?"

Bjorn Dykstra fixed him with an incredulous glare. "The knights are not a hobbyist organization, sir. One does not merely resign ones post when one grows bored and wishes to pursue other avenues of interest. Knight Potter is under a binding magical contract with the ICW for a period of three years. Six months of that time still exists on his original contract. I intend to see that he meets out his contract to the last day, for both his own good and that of the ICW, not to mention the publics'."

"W-Why did he…?" Hermione managed to gasp out before collapsing into Ron's arms with a stifled sob.

"Need you ask?" Bjorn returned grimacing. Seeing the gatherings mixed looks of uncertainty, he explained.

"Since you all seem to need explanations… Knight Potter apparently feels he can no longer effectively assume his duties due to the temporary loss of his magical abilities."

"But he…?" Molly tried to interrupt, but Bjorn silenced her with a glare.

"He's under the impression that his magical core is permanently damaged with, in all honesty, it may be that his full magical abilities may never return, if at all." Holding up his hand to forestall the flood of worried questions, he continued.

"According to our healers, his magical core may be permanently damaged, only time will tell if that is so. It is a bitter truth, one that I had thought to keep from him until we knew for certain one way or another. Due to his rather unique talents for ferreting out information, Knight Potter has gleaned this troubling information. Given his nature, he has taken this present measure in an attempt to negate any risk for those associating in his proximity."

"He wrote that?" Molly asked fretfully.

Bjorn shrugged indifferently, "Not in so many words, no, but one only need know the measure of the man to be able to read between the lines. Knight Potter puts the safety of others first and foremost, despite what the vultures within the press corps claim to the contrary.

Harry has made many enemies over his brief, but exemplary career. With the loss of his magical powers, however temporary that may be, he would undoubtedly be at greater risk for retaliation by those to whom he has brought to justice. Anyone, by association, would also be at greater risk as a consequence."

Fleur shot her gathered family a knowing look. "In uzzer words, his 'nobility complex' just went into over drive."

"Oui." Bjorn agreed, honoring Fleur's French heritage.

She nodded her appreciation.

"How can I help?" Arthur Weasley offered his ministry's assistance.

"We could use all the aurors you can spare to help us sweep the muggle transport systems" Bjorn suggested.

"I'll see to it at once." Arthur made to leave for the ministry.

Bjorn caught his attention before he left. "With all due respect, minister,… If one of your overzealous aurors should harm Knight Potter during capture…?"

The threat was very evident in Bjorn Dykstar's voice.

"Then you shall have my resignation as well, First Knight." Arthur promised his assurance.

Arthur gave his worried wife a reassuring peck on the cheek.

"Come Ron, we have important business to attend to."

Ron Weasley fell in step along with his father, both conversing hurriedly as they made their way to the hospital's apparition area.

A teary eyed Ginny stepped up and tried to give the uniform,( she'd been clutching tightly to her chest), back to Bjorn, but the First Knight shook off the offer with a wan smile.

"My wife, Emma likes a man in uniform,... it's how we first met. She always says that the uniform brings out more of the man who wears it, but in Harry's case, Emma swears that it's Harry who brings out more in the uniform. You get that on him sometime and you'll see what she means." With that, Bjorn Dykstra nodded his regards to those still present and left to join the search for his errant knight.

"We shouldn't have brought him back here. Because of our meddling, Harry's injured, maybe even crippled for life,…and now he's completely alone." Molly mewled glumly.

"Nonsense." Hermione cut in, refuting her future mother in-law. "If Harry hadn't been here then thousands of people would have lost their lives when the Harpies stadium was sabotaged. Despite the outcome, I have to believe that Harry's at least grateful for that much. I know I am."

Several others nodded their heads in reluctant agreement.

After a few minutes the last dregs of the gathered family filed away to their own pursuits, though one chose to return several hours later.

* * *

Fleur had prepared a nice meal for Bill and Willie before leaving to visit her sister that same evening. At least that was what she told her husband. It was true, at least in part.

It was nearing eight pm when Fleur found herself cautiously walking toward a familiar doorway to a once secured room, now supposedly vacant. Getting into St. Mungo's was easily accomplished, getting out however…?

Fleur cast a cautious look around before slipping into the room that Harry had once occupied under heavy guard.

" 'Arry " She called out in a near whisper into the darkened room.

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, but she was no more than briefly startled as she had sensed his presence empathically beforehand.

"Shhh" A familiar voice shushed from over her shoulder, tickling the fine hairs at the nape of her slender neck.

"You're late." he scolded quietly, removing his hand from her mouth.

"Bill was a bit put off and Willie a bit unsettled. Some of her Veela empathic senses are beginning to stir and I think she was picking up on Bill's anxiety. We had better get to my Father's before Bill gets suspicious and checks for me zer."

"We're not going there." Harry confided.

"We're not?" She asked puzzled. Fleur attempted to turn around but Harry clamped down on her shoulders holding her in place in front of him.

"I'm not wearing any clothes." He explained.

"In zat case…" Fleur made another half hearted attempt to turn around, but his hand shot out catching her by the shoulder.

"Funny." he returned sarcastically, ignoring her quiet giggles.

"Why are you not wearing ze hospital garb?" she whispered curiously.

"Because, A): They would expect me to be dressed in hospital attire and, B) My clothes were totally soaked thru and I needed a shower. Holding oneself against the ceiling for the better part of six hours is more taxing than you might surmise. I don't know how many times someone passed beneath me during the course of the day? If anyone had so much as bothered to look up while they were in the loo, they would have saw me clinging to the ceiling like some gigantic spider. A fat old janitor came in and used the loo around two pm. I don't know what that wanker ate for lunch, but he did something _unholy_ in that bathroom. I almost tossed up right on top of his balding head.

Fleur was sniggering despite herself.

"If you've quite finished amusing yourself at my expense, we best be on our way before the staff makes nine o'clock rounds checking for stray visitors before they lock down for the night, sometimes they check the ward early."

"You have been paying attention to detail, oui?"

"I spend a lot of time in hospitals it seems. It's a professional hazard, one of the many that I won't miss."

"W-What exactly will you m-miss?" she asked hesitantly

It took so long for him to respond that she almost asked again…

"I'll miss Willie, Bjorn and his family, Harpies' Quidditch games, flying…." He left off vacantly.

"Nothzing else?" she groused dejectedly.

"Don't be ridiculous." He scolded. "You know that I'll miss you and 'Mione most of all."

"Oh,… 'Arry,… are you sure about zis?" she choked down a sob of regret.

"No." he admitted flatly. "But it's the best I can come up with on short notice."

"But you would be safe at my Father's. Gabby would take good care of you while you heal. It could at least give you some time to plan things out." Fleur returned, nearly begging him to reconsider his present course.

"Gabby's a sweetheart for offering. Tell her I'm deeply touched by her gracious offer. As for your father, I honor Jean too much to risk putting his home and family in jeopardy. As France's Magical Minister, Jean is a very powerful man, but I have very powerful enemies and they will stop at nothing trying to even the score once it gets out that I'm without my magical abilities.

No,... I think it best that Harry Potter disappears for good. Besides, maybe as James Black I'll find someone somewhere who'll love me, just for me." He mused half heartedly, more for her sake than his own belief in the possibility.

Fleur turned around before he had a chance to stop her, but her eyes only sought out his own in the near darkness, held at bay by the crack of light from beneath the room's door.

" Zer are many who love you for you." she hissed challengingly. " Zer are many who will come to regret zis more zan you can know. Zer is also one,… one who loves you with all zat she is. One who loves you in a way zat Hermione and I never could and we envy her for eet."

Harry smiled wanly and replied. "I know. I-I've always known. I-It would have never worked out. Ginny would always be in danger around me and because of that her parents would have never given us their blessing and I wouldn't force her to have to decide between her family and me either. Now she can finally move on as can the rest of you."He returned, half trying to convince himself as well as Fleur.

" I… I do not want zis, 'Arry. I do not want to m-move on."

Harry gathered up his weeping friend in a gentle hug, cooing reassuringly to her till her sobs faded away.

Once settled Fleur realized their current situation and giggled out. "I zink if someone sees us like zis, me in a naked mans arms, zey will not understand, oui?"

Harry chuckled as he stepped smoothly from her, Oui." He agreed with a wink.

He stepped quietly into the bathroom and retrieved a pair of picture ID's that had _accidently_ fallen off of his caregiver's uniforms.

"How's your glamour charms these days?" he suggested pointedly, adding." The drapes should transfigure nicely into a set of scrubs, oui?"

Twenty minutes later Healer Waylon Baskins and Nurse Brenda Tomlinson we're quietly making their way down Briarwood Lane in Godrics Hollow. They stopped at the burnt out ruin of a once charming cottage, now little more than a few crumbing stones and rotted timbers. Healer Baskins moved with purpose toward the rear most corner of the blackened foundation where he shifted a few stones and removed a small leather satchel from its hiding place and returned to the nurse on look out with wand drawn.

Fleur,( Nurse Tomlinson), arched a questioning eyebrow on seeing the satchel whose straps he was adjusting to fit his shoulders.

"A bit of insurance I put away for a rainy day. I have several such hidden throughout the world." He began to explain. "It's a magical expanding tent complete with all the furnishings, including a safe with sufficient funds and alternate identification papers; stored in it for just such an emergency. I can live quite comfortably out of the tent or use the funds and new ID to start over somewhere else in relative anonymity. It's got a few open ended, one use _port keys_ as well so that I can travel internationally to other such hidden locations to retrieve similar survival packs. I've even got a complete apartment in a lunch box sized trunk lying in a junk yard near Brisbane. "

"You've planned for this?" Fleur gapped incredulously.

Harry shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I'm a survivor. That's how I ultimately beat Voldemort in the end. I just outlasted the miserable bastard. "

"Et was a lot more zan zat." Fleur snorted her disagreement.

Harry merely shrugged again before casting a glance up and down the lane to ensure that they were away from prying eyes. Once satisfied that they were completely alone he instructed her to remove their glamour charms.

Fleur did so reluctantly, considering that this might be the last time she ever looked upon the face of Harry Potter again.

As if sensing her trepidation, Harry took her hands and said. "I'll not say good bye, only… some day."

"We won't ever see you again, will we 'cher?" Fleur asked despondently.

"If you're lucky, than hopefully not, but, the universe seems to have a way of throwing me into the mix, so who knows? Maybe someday."

"Hermione and I should have never let zem bring you back here to England. If you hadn't been at zat match zis would have never happened?"she admonished dolefully.

"And the rest of you would now be dead." Harry returned sagely, surprising her.

"Listen to me now and listen well. The attack at the Harpies match wasn't just a terrorist bombing; it was an assassination attempt on Minister Weasley and the rest of the family. You all were supposed to be in the Minister's box located on the north end-that night. Because I was supposed to be there and so many of you were in attendance, you all instead had moved to Ginny's comp seats. The bomber hadn't known of the last minute change."

Fleur gapped at him with a frightened expression, realizing how close they had all come to being killed.

"I need you to do several things for me?" Harry pulled several letters from his pocket and pressed them into her hands. Two of them were quite bulky.

"Please see that these are delivered; there's one for you, Hermione and Bjorn Dykstra. First and foremost, make sure First Knight Dykstra gets his letter, it's that important."

Fleur nodded her understanding. "A-Alright, 'Arry."

"Yours and Hermione's are self explanatory and contain a few extra items that I hope you will never need to use. Promise me,... promise me that you will heed my warnings. For a few short years I was one of the best at what I did, and what I did was hunt evil. A new Dark Lord of sorts has risen; one potentially more terrible than Voldemort may have ever been. If Bjorn and the knights mobilize quickly and as a whole, than there's a chance that a catastrophe can yet be averted before it has a chance to even begin. If not, than England may well be lost to the coming darkness."

Fleur's frightened eyes searched his. "You are frightening me, 'Arry."

Harry cupped her cheek. "It's the last thing that I want to do, but you need to understand the gravity of the situation that's about to unfold. A misguided idiot has unleashed something incredibly malignant upon you; though I'm sure he's far too arrogant to realize his mistake, if it hasn't destroyed him already and afforded him a brief moment of clarity before his much deserved demise. Do you remember Draco Malfoy from your year at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard's tournament?" He asked pointedly.

Fleur's eyebrows knitted as she tried to remember. "He was zat horrid, pale blond Slytherin, oui?"

Harry nodded with a smirk at her description. "Yes, that's him. Promise me that if you see him or anyone that even remotely resembles him, that you'll apparate away without a second thought."

"But, 'Arry?" Fleur began to argue, but Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently but firmly to drive the seriousness of his point home.

"Promise me! Swear it on your magic!" he demanded.

"I-I swear it. " Fleur stammered. "If I see zat man I will take Willie and go." She promised.

Harry nodded his head in acceptance.

"Yours and Hermione's envelopes contain several _port keys_, amongst other things. Only use the _port keys_ in an absolute emergency. It's a one shot deal that will take you to a place of safety.

"I'm frightened, 'Arry. Please stay with us?" She clutched at his arm but he pulled back from her reaching hands.

"I can't stay, Fleur. It's not that time... yet." He responded cryptically. Harry pulled her trembling form into a hurried hug, gave her a peck on the forehead and whispered a quick-'I love you' before activating a port key and disappearing in a swirl of color.

Fleur stared a long time at the place where Harry had last stood, contemplating the words…

_It's not that time yet_

"Someday, 'cheri" She whispered into the ether, wishing that he could somehow, somewhere, hear her.

* * *

Three days later, it was a somber group that met Saturday afternoon at the Burrow for lunch. At least that was the pretense for their rather hurried get together. The real reason was that Fleur and Hermione had simply requested their presence and every last one of them had readily complied.

Lunch had been sumptuous as per usual when Molly prepared a meal, however, no one ate with the gusto or the usual exuberance that was characteristic at a Weasley get together.

The papers had been filled with article after article, each hypothesizing over Harry Potter's disappearance and, or rumored resignation from the ICW.

The knights had been noticeably scouring the British Isles in pairs, supposedly searching for their errant member. At least that's what everyone assumed they were doing.

They were looking for someone alright, but it wasn't Harry Potter.

Who so ever it was, they were damn serious about finding them that much was for certain.

After dinner all of the Weasley siblings and their significant others gathered within the magically expanded family room and looked expectantly toward the Weasley parents.

Arthur took in the curious stares pointed his way and cleared his throat uncomfortably, offering a reluctant.

"Don't look at me, this wasn't my idea." he defended shooting his daughter in-law a meaningful look.

Taking her cue, Fleur shared a meaningful look with Hermione, before gracefully stepping into the middle of the room and addressed those gathered around her.

"Ze knights and aurors zat are looking for 'Arry will not find him. He iz gone." she began with an air of certainty.

"H-How do you know?" Ron asked from his place next to Hermione.

"Because I elped him leave." Fleur answered simply

"You did what?" Bill growled from the couch he shared with their daughter.

"You heard me, Bill. I elped 'Arry leave Britain."

"You aided and abetted a fugitive?" Ron accused her.

Fleur shrugged indifferently. "I would not use those exact words, but, oui."

"Why,.. and why not tell us sooner?" Percy conjectured, curious about her motives. "Why let us (The Ministry) go on with a fruitless hunt, wasting valuable resources? The least you could have done was to put our minds at ease? Mother's been in a right state all week and Father's been pushing himself around the clock."

"It was necessary." Hermione answered, coming to Fleur's defense.

Ron gaped at her incredulously, wondering just how much she understood, or even suspected what was really happening.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat gathering his family's attention before things could degrade to a shouting match of accusations and threats.

"Hermione and Fleur are correct in that it was necessary to be seen as having to be actively, even aggressively searching for Harry. Not that we don't want to find him, for believe me we most certainly do, but that is not our first and foremost priority."

"Then what is?" Ron scathed, irate as to having been kept in the dark regarding real reason his aurors we're being spread all over the countryside.  
"I ,… am,. not at liberty to say, Ronald. I apologize, but for now, only those with level five clearances have been briefed as to the whole of the intricacies behind the ICW's current mission in the British Isles. I take it that you, Fleur and you too, Hermione, have in part some idea as to what is occurring?"

Fleur and Hermione shared a look before Fleur turned her attention back to her father in-law.

"Non." She answered flatly. "I and Hermione only know zat Harry has asked us to stay out of things and to be ,er,.. What was he called it?" She asked her friend, forgetting the phrase she was looking for.

"Constant Vigilance!" Hermione growled in a reasonable imitation of Alastor Moody's voice.

Chuckles came from around the room at that. Many recalled fondly their association with the legendary, if eccentric auror, from the war against Voldemort.

"You've had contact with him." Ron shot his fiancé an accusing glare.

"Not really, no." Hermione disagreed, haughtily refusing to divulge anything further as she was clearly put off by his accusing tone.

"How then?" Ron pressed. He was clearly at the end of his tether.

Fleur abated the coming row by interjecting. " 'Arry wrote us a letter before he left, one for myself and one for Hermione."

"N-Not one for me?" A small voice asked from the side.

Hermione turned to her friend and grasped Ginny's hand supportively as the younger witch wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

"Some things can't be put in letters, Ginny." She tried vainly to reassure her friend. "He did send something for you though." she offered brightly.

"What?" Ginny nearly vaulted out of her chair excitedly.

"Let us explain a few things first before we get to that, ok?" Hermione asked her to be patient a bit longer. Ginny nodded her acceptance, though she clearly was less than thrilled with the prospect of waiting.

"As I said, 'Arry sent a letter." Fleur drew their attention back to her as she pulled an envelope from within the folds of her robes.

She paused for minute, smiling proudly as she read the first line.

"_To my cherished friend, Fleur..._

_We began our association as unexpected rivals, though you did not consider me worthy of said distinction at the time,ie.. when you referred to me as a " Leetle Boy!"_

Fleur paused blushing embarrassedly.

"_By the end of the second task we were on our way to becoming close friends, though undeservedly on my part,( as any decent bloke would have done the same thing for your sister), but in retrospect; I'm glad things happened the way they did._

_It has been my distinct pleasure to have been present, in part, as you transformed into the formidable witch you've become, whilst maintaining and improving upon the grace and elegant nature of the lady you have always been._

_You s-stood by me when n-no one else could or would…". _Fleur's voice began to break as she continued to read.

"_You and Hermione remained steadfastly loyal and kind to me,… and for that I shall be forever indebted to you. _

_In future times when I find myself in a melancholy state, I shall think on and remember the warmth of affection you so generously bestowed upon me with your priceless friendship. I shall treasure these memories as I treasure the person to who is responsible for their existence._

_Heed my previous warning and remember to use ' Constant Vigilance!' _

_I have enclosed several small items with this letter. They are but a few simple tokens of my appreciation. Please see that they are distributed appropriately,( I think you will have little trouble in distinguishing as to what is meant for who?)._

_These 'tokens' serve a dual purpose in that they are not only keepsakes, but also one- way port keys to a place of safety. The activation phrase is on the back of each item and for security measures; only the person for whom it is meant will be able to see it. I apologize that they are only limited to a one time use, but once utilized- you'll see why._

_Use them only when circumstances are most dire! _

_Now, I fear,… it is time for me to say 'someday', for if I've learned one thing it is that goodbyes never seem to turn out the way that one expects and the universe seems to have continuing plans for us all ._

_ Until we meet again. I remain proudly.._

_ Your friend, Harry_

_P.S. All my love to Willie,.. and If Bill gets suspicious of where you got off to when you helped me escape; tell him that we were engaged in an illicit affair for years and that you're not certain as to who Willie's true father really is! "_

George and Percy laughed riotously at that, earning themselves an angry glare from their eldest brother.

"That was in extremely poor taste." he growled under his breath.

George managed to stop sniggering long enough to add. "But funny!"

"There is more." Fleur interjected regaining everyone's attention.

" _P.S.S. To show that there are no hard feelings.. I've enclosed is a key to the newly established Weasley Generation Vault. Each Weasley child starting with Wille's generation will receive upon successful completion of their Hogwart's education, the sum of five thousand galleons. The gold is to be used for continuing education such as attending university, or to set them up in a business endeavor of their choosing. I've enclosed funds for an estimated hundred Weasley children. That estimate may seem farfetched by some, but I have complete faith in the Weasley family's ability to fully meet or even surpass my calculated expectations. In that regard, pass along my congratulations to … Hermione!"_

"**What?!**" Hermione shot out of her chair like a scalded cat. "How could he? He couldn't have known?! I haven't told a soul? Ron, doesn't even…?" Hermione bit off that laststatement blushing profusely, seeming to realize for the first time that she had been speaking aloud.

"Oh,.. Wow." Ginny murmured from her spot staring wide eyed at Hermione along with the rest of the astonished family.

Hermione, as in a fit of utter mortification, burst into tears and fled the Burrow via the kitchen door.

Ron stared gob smacked at the place where Hermione had stood frantically verifying Harry's suspicions, only moments before.

"Congratulations, Ron!" Bill cheered, grateful that the spotlight had been removed from himself and was now shining brightly on his completely astounded little brother.

"That is,.." Bill paused, glancing at his wife pointedly before continuing. "That is unless Hermione was also engaged in something unexpected with Harry as well?" Bill quipped, earning a scandalized hiss from his mother and more guffaws from his brothers, Ginny included too.

"Sod off!" Ron growled as he passed his grinning eldest brother and stalked off in the direction in which Hermione had left.

"Fatherhood affects us all differently." Arthur Weasley intoned sagely with a grin of his own.

His children and wife all chuckled appreciatively at that.

Ron found Hermione staring vacantly across the still waters of the Burrow's pond. She had her hands clutched protectively around her waist as if warding off a chill on an otherwise warm August day.

"Hermione?" he began uncertainly.

"I was going to tell you." Hermione returned anxiously. "I- I was afraid it would change things. I- I was afraid it would change our plans for marrying. I-I don't want to have to rush things because,.. because…." Hermione's face fell into her hands as she began sobbing desolately.

Ron pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her hair, kissing the top of her head gently as she cried into his neck and shoulder.

"It doesn't change anything, luv." He cooed reassuringly.

"I-It doesn't?" Hermione choked out hopefully.

"Nah, it just makes me the luckiest bloke in the world as far as I'm concerned. It's like getting another dose of you all over again."

"Oh Ron" Hermione wept gratefully into his shoulder clutching at him for all she was worth.

Once her tears subsided, followed of course by some seriously celebratory snogging, Ron asked curiously…

"How did he know? Harry , I mean,.. How did he know you were preggers?"

"Its preg-nant." she admonished contritely. She's always hated the British slang considered a blessing in view of the fact that her own parents had been unable to have another child after she was born.

"I- I don't know? I haven't even seen a healer yet. I only just ran the charm on myself last week before I….?"

"Before you what?" Ron reiterated curiously intrigued now.

"Before I went to see Harry at the hospital." Hermione finished her statement. "H-He must have sensed something o-or could see it in my expression or something?"

"That must be it. " Ron agreed, only half convinced.

"He left something for you." Hermione changed the subject.

"Me? Why would he leave anything for me?" Ron asked incredulously

"The letter he left me sort of explains that. His letter was much the same as Fleur's in that he reminded me about how we became friends. He said;

"_Taking on that mountain troll with Ron, was the perhaps the most foolhardy and proudest moment of my life. It was the moment I cemented a friendship with the two of the people that mean the most to me in the entire world. It was the day that the "Golden Trio" was formed. Some dubbed us that enviously, others scornfully; it was perhaps the only title I have ever truly appreciated."_

"You memorized that from his letter?" Ron asked significantly.

Hermione nodded. "It made an impression on me."

Ron nodded at that.

Hermione fished a small box out of her robe and handed it to Ron. "Never take this off,… please, Ron?" He could tell this was important to her.

Ron opened the box. Inside was a golden Celtic knot delicately twisted into the shape of a perfect triangle, on a man's length heavy golden chain.

"Blimey, it's beautiful." Ron breathed reverently, pulling the necklace carefully out of the confining box.

"It's an emergency _port key_ as well." Hermione confided.

"Where does it go?"

"Hopefully, we'll never have to find out.

Ron peered closely at the triangle "I don't see the activation phrase anywhere?"

Hermione smiled softly at that. "Harry's letter said that if you thought about it, you'd remember the right words."

Ron's eyes went from briefly puzzled to wide with understanding. He was just about to gasp the suspected phrase when Hermione's hand shot out and clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

"One time only _port key_, remember?" She reminded him.

Ron nodded his head in understanding. After she removed her hand he continued somewhat awed.

"He made that the activation phrase?" He asked incredulously.

"For mine too." Hermione acknowledged with a wan smile.

"H-He still cares, then?" Ron asked hopefully.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him as if he had asked the most obvious thing she'd ever heard.

"Well of course he does, you git." she teased.

Ron's eyes began to tear despite his best efforts. Hermione pulled him to her and held him close as Ron choked out five years of unending regret.

"W-What are we going to do, 'Mione?" he asked after finally reining in his emotions.

"Well, for starters,… we're going to be constantly VIGILANT!"

Ron chuckled appreciatively at that.

"Secondly,… we're going to be patient. Harry knows where we are. When it's time… then we'll see him again."

Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression. "When it's time?" He questioned.

"It was something he said to Fleur before he left and it struck me as odd too." She explained.

"That and the statement he made that the: 'Universe has a way of throwing me into the mix'. I don't think that fate is quite done with Harry Potter just yet." Hermione prophesized.


	10. Chapter 10: It's not that time yet

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Ten: It's not that time yet**

Nearly a year had passed since Harry had disappeared. Much had happened in that time and none of it good.

Oh, people still went about their daily lives, but now they did so with aurors on nearly every street corner and the occasional Magical Knight readily noticeable keeping stalwart vigil amongst the public sector. The reasoning for such blatant security measures was not one of open hostilities with party or parties unknown, but due to a rash of disappearances that had plagued the British Isles. Unlike the war with Voldemort, when muggles and muggle borns were openly preyed upon, this time around the disappearances were exclusively magical folk, especially those of pure blood descent.

People disappeared during broad daylight, most never seen or heard from again. Others….? Well, others returned days or weeks later, found wandering aimlessly in the streets with vacant stares, devoid of all emotion and memory. What was worse, at least to some, these poor mindless individuals were devoid of all magic . They were dried husks, shells of their former selves. Calling them squibs would be kind, that is, if they even had enough reason remaining to comprehend what the word meant.

These poor hapless individuals died within days of being found. They simply ceased to exist. They neither ate nor drank. Rest was a foreign concept. They simply wandered aimlessly until their hearts gave out and they fell over dead.

Their symptoms mimicked, almost exclusively, that of the victim of a dementor's kiss. They were, in fact ,soulless; however, they were not kissed. They were much worse off; if there even was such a thing?

Not only was their soul removed, along with it every nuance of their magical energy, but also, nearly every shred of their life's energy as well.

What the general public didn't know,… couldn't know, was that each one of these victims had one startling thing in common. Each had a bloody hand print present over their heart, the place where their life's energy had been drained from their body.

That handprint and its location was, either by coincidence or intent, the very same location and design of the insignia worn by former knight, Harry Potter; the insignia that had come to be infamously known as '**The Hand of Death**'.

Though the ICW and the British MLES did not suspect that Harry Potter had anything to do with the plight of these people, they neither thought it mere coincidence either.

To that end, Harry Potter was unofficially, a wanted man. Unofficial; because if the public was made aware of this 'coincidence' they would be screaming for his blood in the street!

Both the ICW and the MLES had standing orders to detain on sight, one Harry James Potter, by any and all means necessary, save lethality. The order was instituted both for his own protection and for informational gathering purposes.

It was an order that Bjorn Dykstra, First of the Magical Knights, did not take lightly, nor did he condone.

He and those he served with saw it as a disgraceful plot to vilify one who had served with both honor and the highest distinction in his all too brief career.

In the public eye, they would follow the standing order to detain, Harry Potter. In private, not a one among them would even consider such cruel compensation for one they considered above reproach.

The British aurors on the other hand?

The knights all feared that an overzealous auror would take it upon himself to capture Harry Potter by any means necessary, regardless of orders to the contrary concerning lethality.

This possibility was due, in part, to the reason behind the Knights keeping a careful vigil in all areas that boasted a concentration of Aurors.

Harry Potter would not come to harm on their watch. Not that there was any real chance of that occurring, as Harry Potter was considered long gone from these shores after his abrupt departure from St. Mungos' some eleven months ago prior.

Many believed he was living in muggle, _English_ speaking society; in either, the states, Canada or even Australia.

Others believed that he was perhaps one of the very first of those that had disappeared, another unknown victim who would never be heard from again in this lifetime.

Lastly, there were those that believed that Harry Potter was at the heart of the evil that currently plagued the British Isles and that only his death would see an end to the fear that now gripped the wizarding public.

Fortunately, those who believed this were in the vast minority. Unfortunately some of those who believed this were contained within the ranks of the British MLES. A rumor to which the current Head of Aurors, one Ronald Weasley, had done his level best to dissuade.

The majority,( those with the capacity to reason despite their growing fear), believed that Harry Potter was out there, bidding his time, and would return to save them one day. It never occurred to them to take matters into their own hands and actively move to defend themselves.

* * *

**Tuesday, May 21**

It was late afternoon; the oppressive heat of the day was just starting to wane. A powerfully built figure ascended the few stairs that led to a well maintained front porch that overlooked a vast emptiness to the south as far as the eye could see, and a veritable wilderness, equally impressive to the north.

The ranch's occupant owned and maintained this land, for miles in all directions.

A gauntleted hand knocked softly on the door jam. Scant moments passed before the door opened and the ranch's unsurprised occupant asked,

"How far apart are they?"

"The contractions?" The figure in the doorway asked with feigned innocence, barely suppressing the grin that threatened to split his face.

The owner of the ranch shot the other a withering, incredulous look and reiterated,

"The abductions. I already know the contractions are still several minutes apart."

Sobering, the other answered. "They're still several days apart."

"Then it's still not time." The owner responded.

"You're sure about this?" his visitor added worriedly.

The owner merely shrugged and answered. "I'm not really sure of anything, but it feels right."

The figure in the doorway nodded his acceptance. He knuckled away a bead of sweat traveling down the side of his face.

"You could at least offer a guest a cool drink?" The visitor admonished pointedly.

The ranch owner arched an eyebrow and asked. "Is it hot outside?"

The visitor rolled his eyes. "You already know it is. Why on Earth you'd want to live in this God forsaken oven is beyond me?" He quipped.

"You already know why." The owner returned. "Besides, it's nice and cool inside." He paused to appreciate his visitor's pained expression in reminding him that he was quite comfortable inside, away from the oppressive heat outside.

Sighing dramatically he stepped out of the door way and nodded his quest inside.

"The place looks great." His visitor commented taking in the polished log interior and western motif.

His host merely shrugged as he handed his guest a cold beer. "It suits me. As long as Sara and the kids are happy, I've no reason to complain.

"How are the little ones?"

"Getting stronger every day."

"And their father?" The visitor asked, tipping his beer bottle in the rancher's direction.

"Funny." His host quipped. "But to answer your drool question. I'm getting stronger every day, as well.

"How much longer do you think?"

"As Long as it takes. Six months? A year? I don't know. It'll take as long as it takes." His host spat back, venting his own frustration.

"I'm not accusing you. It's just ,.. people are dying and we can't contain it much longer before there's panic in the streets ."

"Then declare martial law?" His host suggested.

His guest drained his bottle and shook it upside down meaningfully.

"I'll get another, but answer the question would you." His host requested as he rose to fetch another cold beer from the open kitchen area, bordering the great room.

"If I thought it would do any good, I would. But we don't know how they're taking these people or _where_ in the first place? I'll be damned if I lock people up in their homes at night like some giant lunch box with tasty treats just waiting inside." His quest argued.

The rancher considered his dilemma before returning. "You know, that's not a half bad idea." He began thoughtfully.

"Tell me you're not serious?" The visitor returned with half a smirk at his dual jibe.

The rancher rolled his eyes. "I'll ignore the play on words, but yeah, I think it's a grand idea." He held up his hand placating as his guest leaned forward to begin arguing.

"I've been giving it some thought.. and I think the oppositions using Wraiths."

His quest paled at that. "Wraiths?" he questioned in an appalled tone of voice.

"Think about it? The damned things can move through walls like a ghost and anyone they're in contact with becomes temporarily disembodied at a molecular level. They could come into just about any home and steal away a single occupant, maybe even two if they were small enough. I don't think their power level could manage much more than an equal weight distribution, pound for pound, that is."

"Pound for pound?" His guest blurted out incredulously." They don't weigh anything to begin with."

"Wrong." The rancher returned blandly. "In their ethereal state their practically weightless, the same as any disembodied spirit, but they can solidify for short periods once they've fed."

"Then what's the purpose?" The guest shot back. "If the wraiths need nearly all the energy that their victims can provide in the first place, then why does the opposition even bother? What's left over for them to use?"

The rancher smiled a cold, knowing smile.

"Who says there anything more to it than just terrorizing the public, while creating a diversion at the same time? Think about it? Your people are stretched to their limits and the aurors are like the proverbial 'dyke boy'. Maybe that's all your adversary is aiming for. While you're busy trying to keep a lid on things, they're free to move forward with their own plans unhindered."

"Recruitment? Another large scale terrorist attack? Worse?" His quest conjectured.

The rancher shrugged indifferently. "Maybe all of the above, or worse?" He added cryptically.

Bjorn Dykstra drained his second beer as he surged to his feet.

"Damn it, Harry, we need you?" He began to argue, waving off the coming retort, he added.

"And don't start that "James Black" crap with me. You're Harry Potter and I'm not going to play along with your fantasy pretense to the contrary. Besides, it's a rather obvious use of your fathers and Godfather's names." he groused.

It was only nine months later and this was becoming a rather old argument.

"Obviously." Harry quipped in agreement. "I use the name to honor my forebears, as well you know. But,.. I digress. You don't need me, at least not yet. We both know how to kill a wraith. Just make a show of packing away the minister's family under the pretence that he's home recovering from some malady or another and that his family is tending to him. Hell, the opposition will be drooling over that one." He chirruped.

"Pack the minister's family off some place safe and have a few knights waiting at the Burrow to provide the wraiths a little entertainment when they show. Put Sanders on it, 'ghosties' are right up that dude's ally."

Bjorn smirked. "Dude?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a local euphemism, besides Jenna's generation likes it.

Bjorn rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. Sometimes I can't even translate what my eldest daughter is talking about?" He complained.

"That's because you're not cool." Harry pointed out with a grin. "What do you think about my idea, though?"

"Sounds like a winner, as always." Bjorn agreed. He paused a moment and pulled a face.

"I'll have to put someone other than Sanders on it though?" Bjorn left off without explaining.

Harry caught the omission.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

Bjorn sighed and met Harry's eyes with his own troubled ones. "It would be a, er,.. a conflict of interest if I assigned Sanders to springing a trap at the Weasley home."

Harry's brows knit as he puzzled over his friends implication.

It didn't take long for the conclusion to hit him.

"Oh"

Bjorn wrung his hands through his slightly graying blond hair in frustration as he began to pace back and forth muttering his apologies.

"Christ, Harry,.. I'm sorry about this. This is my fault and I take full responsibility for it."

"How exactly is it your fault?" Harry asked cautiously, not liking the direction this conversation was going.

Bjorn rounded on him. "Isn't it obvious?" he blurted incredulously. "This whole damn scenario was my idea. I took you out of the mix and now look what's happened? Things are going to hell back in 'Jolly ol' England!" he quipped.

"I'm not sure we accomplished a damn thing, other than to give Sanders' a free shot to make a play on your girl." Bjorn spat disgustedly, slumping back into his chair with a defeated air.

Despite the churning in his stomach over the revelation that Ginny and Mike Sanders had started a romance, Harry attempted to alleviate his friend's anxiety.

"First off; she wasn't my girl."

Bjorn snorted derisively at that.

Ignoring his friend, he continued: "Secondly; only you and I are aware of the plan. The bastard/ bastards don't have a clue whether or not I'm still around or if I even pose any kind of a threat. I know these people. Let their arrogance get the better of them. Once they're confident that I'm out of it, they'll come out into the open. I should have a handle on this by then and the kids will be able to take care of themselves." Harry assured his friend.

Bjorn nodded. "What about Sanders? The boys and I have already talked to him about things. You know how we feel about wives and girlfriends; another Knight's girl is strictly 'off limits'. He's not happy about it, but he says he'll step aside if you've got a problem with it?"

Harry nodded appreciatively. "Leave Mike alone. If he makes Ginny happy, then I'm happy. But,.. " Harry paused and his voice turned to ice," If he makes her unhappy…?" he left off pointedly. His eyes nearly glowed with barely contained promised mayhem.

Bjorn nodded. "Understood, Harry. I'll tell him, but I'm sure he already knows. You don't need to worry too much about it though. That girl can take care of herself and if anything's left over, the boys' will be more than happy to finish clearing it away. "

After a few quiet moments of contemplation, Bjorn was the first to breech the silence.

"Are you sure this is how you want things,.. with Ms. Weasley, I mean?" he clarified.

"No,.. Yes, I,.. I really don't know?" Harry hesitated.

"I-I always had this dream that one day I'd actually survive and be free of that damn prophesy. Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys were all part of that dream." Harry snorted at the irony. "Funny thing about dreams; one day you wake up and it turns out it was just that, a dream,… or in some cases, a nightmare. I wish I could go back. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that night and actually have stayed dead after Voldemort killed me. Better a dead hero or martyr even, than a live pariah."

"I know, Harry." Bjorn joined in sympathetically, but Harry didn't seem to notice. He was adrift in melancholy thoughts of 'what if' and 'might have beens'.

At least that's what was Bjorn thought until Harry dropped an unexpected bombshell.

"I almost did it you know?" he stated cryptically.

Bjorn found himself strangely frightened by the way Harry said that last.

"Almost did what, Harry?" he asked,, not really certain if he wanted to know where this was going.

"I-I'd just graduated from Strombridge. You remember, it was the day that Hermione came to see me?

Bjorn nodded.

Harry's eyes went vacant and he spook in a haunting monotone as he recalled the events of that day.

"Well, after,..Before I signed my contract with the ICW,… I went back home, to England. I wasn't even sure I could apparate all the way there in one go? I half considered that I'd splinch myself over the Atlantic and drown. I half didn't care."

Bjorn's face drained of all color as Harry continued his tale.

"I- I went to Gringott's to retrieve something I'd seen locked away in the Potter vault. I'd thought to use it to go back and try and change things. I- I don't know,… I thought that maybe if I could at least save Fred, then maybe….?" Harry left off there and knuckled away a betraying tear from the corner of his eye.

_He's talking about time traveling back years? It'd be suicide to even try more than a few jumps at one time._

"Jesus, Harry,.. do you mean you've got a time turner?" Bjorn asked in a shaken voice.

Harry could conceivably use a time turner to go back a few hours at a time, or even days if a _day _traveling one still existed. But even with all of his magical strength; he wouldn't make it back more than a few rotations before his cells degraded at the molecular level and he simply ceased to exist.

Harry nodded. "An unrestricted one." he confirmed.

Bjorn's mouth worked silently in dread. He gaped at Harry as if he had just claimed conception of the Universe.

Time turners in themselves were beyond dangerous, but thankfully they had a safeguard built in that didn't allow for travel back thru time for more than three hours… and those were the ones beyond priceless. Kingdoms could be ransomed for such. Rarer still were the time turners that could transport its wearer back up to three days. The last such in existence were destroyed in the great wars of the middle ages. Rumors had abound that there was an unrestricted time turner conceived by Merlin himself, but like all things Merlin, it was considered just another fanciful tale.

Bjorn closed the distance between them slowly and carefully so as not to startle his young friend. Their conversation had already taken a drastically dangerous turn and the situation needed to be diffused immediately, albeit cautiously.

Harry Potter was a noble man. One most considered wise beyond his years, but he was also a man who despite his young life, had faced many life altering tragedies.

With that taken into account, **no man** had the wisdom to possess an **unrestricted **time turner.

Bjorn kneeled down in front of his young friend and carefully reached out and grasped his shoulders, looking deeply into his friend's suddenly curious green eyes.

"Harry, listen to me. I'm your friend, aren't I ? Your brother knight?"

Harry nodded, a bit of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bjorn was so intense that he failed to note the quirk of a grin Harry was fighting to control.

"Then as your friend and brother, I want you to do something for me?" Bjorn continued carefully.

"You want me to destroy the time turner?" Harry surmised.

"I do, yes." Bjorn agreed.

"I,… I don't know?" Harry came back uncertainly.

Bjorn shook his head. "No, Harry. It has to be destroyed, now, today! I want you to take me to it and we'll destroy it together." he urged empathically.

Harry shook his head absently. "A-Alright, Bjorn, but we don't need to go anywhere. I have it right here?"

Bjorn's breath caught in his throat as Harry reached into the collar of his shirt and began to extract the necklace he was wearing.

Harry pulled out a round looking glass shaped charm on a golden chain. Bjorn had noticed the chain many times over the years, but he'd never really considered what Harry might have had hanging on that necklace, tucked safely down from view.

"You mean there?!" he gasped in shocked disbelief. "All this time?" he goggled at his young friend.

Harry nodded. "Sure, Bjorn. It's rather simple to use. All you have to do is…" Harry grasped the charm and made to turn it over in his hand.

"**No, Don't!**" Bjorn shrieked in alarm.

"Alright, jeez, calm down." Harry placated, fanning his hands. "I was only going to show you." Harry flipped over the charm before Bjorn could stop him.

The first knight winced in dread until Harry held his looking glass styled charm forward and said: "See on this side there's a picture of me, Ron and Mione after we all became friends our first year at Hogwarts."

"What the…?" Bjorn began to question, but Harry ignored him as he continued.

He flipped over the charm and another picture emerged from the looking glasses misty depth. This one showed a slightly older version of a filth covered Harry with a very young and teary Ginny Weasley.

"This was after I fought the basilisk my second year. I took the picture from a pensieve memory, bit tricky that, but it was worth it. Ginny was really cute, huh?"

Harry flipped the looking glass again and proudly displayed a picture of Bjorn and Emma holing up a newborn child wrapped in a boy's blue baby blanket.

"And this of course is you and Emma just after Jeff was born. See,.. I can go forward in time or if I turn it in the opposite direction it goes back to my early years when I was just a baby. It's perfectly safe." Harry reassured his friend with smirk that was desperately trying to break into a full out laugh.

"You ass!" Bjorn spat taking a half swipe at a now chortling Harry Potter.

"Damn it all, Harry, that's not funny." he complained, only causing Harry to snort louder.

"You scared the be-jee-bees out of me. I was half ready to take you into protective custody for your own safety you idiot."

"Oh-Oh,…Me-Me-Merlin,… this hurts." Harry choked out holding his sides. After several more minutes of Bjorn watching him disgustedly as he rolled around on the sofa struggling to get his rib cracking guffaws under control.

At long last, Harry was finally able to take a full breath.

"Whew!" he gasped, wiping his shirt sleeve across his teary eyes.

"If you've quite finished?" Bjorn asked drolly.

"T-The look on your face when I t-turned over that charm? Harry chuckled at his friend's expense. "I thought you were gonna piss yourself." Harry snorted.

"I almost did, thank you very much." Bjorn admitted irately.

Harry sobered a bit at his friend's expression. "Things must be serious over in England if you seriously don't find that even the least bit amusing?" Harry commented worriedly.

Bjorn shot him an exasperated look. "Merlin,.. haven't you been listening, Harry? People are stumbling in half dead from out of nowhere and we can't stop it. We've looked everywhere, exhausted every avenue, but we can't find the bastards responsible. It's like we're chasing a ghost or at the very least, a phantom!"

"You are." Harry confirmed. "For all intents and purposes that is exactly what you're chasing. Pull in the knights temporarily. Set a trap for the wraiths and leave off trying to find the party that's truly responsible for all the abductions and subsequent deaths. You can't kill them anyway, even if you caught them?" He returned assuredly.

"Bull shit!" Bjorn scoffed." If it bleeds, breaths or floats thru the walls, then the knights can put it down!" He boasted with a bit more certainty than he felt.

Harry shook his head and sighed his disagreement. "No,… you can't. What you're hunting is an abomination formed from the darkest, most foul of blood magics that a diseased mind must have once conceived of as a twisted answer to assuage its all consuming grief and despair. Grief, despair, vengeance; these emotions in the right proportions can drive a person to consider the unthinkable. Things like necromancy and **time travel**." Harry counseled pointedly.

Bjorn's gaze shifted toward his and held his eyes for a few moments, nodding his appreciation for Harry earlier gag which ended up being a teaching aid.

"How did you get so wise for one so young?" he asked, for not the first time.

"It comes at a heavy price sometimes."

Bjorn nodded, knowing all too well the heavy price Harry had paid in his young life, and continued to pay even now. He decided to ask something that he was sure he'd rather not know the answer to, but wanted to know anyway just for the sake of posterity.

"If you could,… if you had an unrestricted time turner? Would you,… you know?" Bjorn asked haltingly.

"What, and screw up things more than they already are?" Harry quipped. "No Thanks."

Bjorn blew out a cleansing breath of relief. "Good"

After a comfortable pause, Bjorn mentioned another subject that he knew wouldn't be well accepted, though why he couldn't quite fathom.

"Emma and the kids say, _Hi_." Bjorn threw out airily.

Harry nodded. "Tell them I said , _Hi_, too."

"Emma wants you to come home with me?" he offered amenably.

"Tell her I appreciate the offer, but I am home and quite comfortable to remain so." Harry's tone implied the subject was not open for debate, but Bjorn pressed on anyway. If he didn't his wife would never let him hear the end of it. Not that she'd let him hear the end of it if he came home without Harry any way.

"She's worried about you, Harry. We all are."

Harry raised his eyebrows in a condescending fashion. "Don't I look alright? You, yourself asked if I'd lead a mission, not twenty minutes ago."

"There's alright, and then there's _alright_."

Harry snorted at the contradiction. "Since physically speaking we both already now that I'm probably stronger than I've ever been and you, yourself have proclaimed me as 'wise beyond my years'." Harry intoned in a mock ominous fashion before adding. "I assume you're intimating psychological health, correct?"

"You're all alone out here. You're needlessly exposed…"

Harry snorted as he objected. "And being unexposed and making your family a target is a better thing? I'm hardly alone or in any imminent danger. I have Sara and the kids here. They take up quite a bit of my time when I'm not training."

"I could order your return to Confederate Headquarters?" Bjorn challenged.

"You'd be wasting your time. I resigned, remember?"

"I never accepted your resignation, remember." Bjorn mockingly returned.

"My contract expired three months ago, so whether you accepted or not; I'm legally civilian now and content to remain so if the Confederation's illustrious 'First Knight' can so freely abuse his authority by trying to conscript private citizens in their own home. Such poor manners." he admonished in a distasteful tone. " I thought knights are supposed to be gallant?"

"That was low." Bjorn groused.

"So was trying to use Emma and the kids to play on my sympathies." Harry returned pointedly.

"Touché, but… the offer was a genuine one and she and the kids are worried. They miss you terribly and whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, you're family and we have a right to worry about you."

Harry stared at him a long time before lowering his eyes and answering dourly. "I miss them too, but for now I'm where I need to be. I've got to get this down right. This training is not like anything I've ever done before. I'm only gonna get one shot at this, if I don't get it right the first time…?" He left off his unspoken fears of failure.

Bjon quirked a half smile as he reassured his young friend. "You will, Harry. You always do."

"I-I'll stop in this weekend, maybe? Just for a quick visit though?" Harry suggested with a bit of trepidation.

"Saturday would be nice. The kids' be ecstatic, especially if you bring Sara and the kids."

Harry nodded echoing. "Saturday"

Bjorn was about to excuse himself, but decided instead to play his trump card.

"She'll most likely deliver in a few hours, maybe less." he mentioned with a practiced vagueness.

Harry nodded his agreement, his eyes never rising from the floor.

"They've asked for the 'Knight's Blessing' for their child. Given the history, I've approved their request." Bjorn added pointedly.

Harry's back stiffened at that.

_Direct hit! _Bjorn howled in silent triumph_._

"What virtue are you going to bestow?" Harry asked curiously.

"They want you to do the honors."Bjorn clarified.

Harry's head shot up at that. "Me, but, I'm not a knight? Why would they even ask, unless they suspect that I could still wield some **form** of magic?" Harry added, growling accusingly.

Bjorn held up his hands in a placating gesture." As to the former; they believe as we all do; Once a knight, always a knight. As for the later; both of them believe that you will find a way."

Harry snorted in disbelief at this assumption.

"Their faith in you is **unshakable." **Bjorn added with no little appreciation for his friend's loyalties at this junction.

Harry's eyes flashed at that. "It is, is it? Where was this "unshakable faith" when I was vilified and condemned to loneliness and despair?"

"That was then, this is now. People change, you should understand this better than most. Besides, the child is innocent into the world. Will you condemn an innocent child for the supposed crimes of the parent, real or no?"

He could see his words had hit the mark and stuck deep.

"W-What virtue have they requested?" Harry asked in reluctant surrender.

Bjorn smiled conspiratorially. "I'll let them tell you. Do you require the loan of my blade?"

It was Harry's turn to smile with hidden knowledge. "I'll manage."

* * *

_**Hours later in the delivery ward at St. Mungo's …**_

"You're never going to touch me again!" Hermione's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Awe, 'Mione?" Ron pleaded.

"Don't, "awe, 'Mione" me, you git! This is all your faul-faul-fault! Ohhhhh, not again!" She wailed in obvious agony.

Owe,…OWE,…**OWE** !" Ron screamed out in growing pain and fear.

"LET GO 'MIONE!" he pleaded with alarming desperation.

"What she doing to him, mum?" Ginny asked her mother worriedly.

"You'll never make any **magic** with that **wand **again!" Hermione howled in triumph through her pain.

"Oh" Ginny gasped, trying to stifle a laugh.

Her brothers were already rolling on the floor of the waiting room, great howls of laughter all but drowning out the unfolding drama within the adjacent birthing room.

"OHHH… !"

Does it hurt bad, luv?' Ron asked feebly.

"No, it hurts **good**. You prat!" Hermione hissed through clenched teeth.

"OHHH… Make it stop!" George choked out mimicking Hermione's laments as he clutched his sides to brace himself from another painful bout of laughter at his younger brother's expense.

"Fred would've loved this." Charlie managed to snigger.

"He'd run out and buy a pensieve to preserve the memory for posterity's sake." Bill agreed chortling.

"Oh, God,… it's coming!" Hermione wailed in agony.

"Thank God!"Ron added, gasping in abject relief.

"Please, God, just a bit longer." Percy pleadingly snorted out before another fresh round of laughter seized the siblings.

The boys' laughter abruptly ceased when the birthing room went ominously quiet.

SWACK!

A newborn's wail echoed down the hallway, soon followed by a cheer from the gathered family that filled the waiting room beyond capacity.

Scant minutes later...

**CLICK…..CLICK…..CLICK**

Booted footfalls echoed from a powerful stride heading towards the celebrants.

The gathering went quiet, holding their breath in anticipation of the boot owner's arrival.

A blonde haired, blue eyed knight with sculpted features came to a halt at the waiting room door. If he noticed the disappointed sighs from those gathered within, he never betrayed it.

"The Weasley's " he asked politely with an American accent.

Arthur Weasley stepped forward. "I believe you're looking for Ron and Hermione Weasley, Lord Knight." He gestured toward the adjacent birthing room.

The knight nodded his thanks and turned with a swirl of his cape and disappeared into the indicated room.

He paused in the door way to appreciate the scene before him. A sweat soaked mane of chestnut hair adorned the head of a completely exhausted, but otherwise absolutely glowing mother of a new born child held tenderly to her breast. Her finger gently smoothed a tuft of reddish hair as she cooed and nuzzled her child whilst a proud father looked on, knuckling a tear from the corner of his eye with one hand and gently rubbed circles over his wife's back as he gushed his admiration for all she'd wrought.

_He shouldn't have come, but how could he not?_ Part of him screamed_, 'Leave now before they're even aware of your presence'_. Another part begged him to _stay and see it thru_. _Reclaim his place in their lives..._.

He could never forget, but could he at least forgive? Hadn't he already? But for his pride and his stupid "nobility complex"; that could be him fit to crow over his own new born 'red headed' child had things gone the way he once envisioned.

Summoning the last vestiges of his waning courage, he cleared his throat and stepped fully into view.

"My apologies for disturbing the peace and joy of this moment, but if a 'knight's blessing' is to be successfully performed, it must be within the hour of a child's first breath of life."

_A 'knight's blessing' is an ancient right of bequeathal wherein a chosen champion blesses a new born child with the gift of virtue; a __**particular**__ virtue for which said knight is noted. A summoning spell, in the tongue rumored to come from ancient Atlantis itself, is used to draw the essence of the knight and direct the seed of his virtue into the child's heart and mind where it will germinate and grow as the child does, to one day flourish within the offspring's character._

Most knights exhibit an abundance of characteristic virtues, however, usually one such is more dominant than all the rest.

In the time of Merlin; Galahad was noted for his purity; Lancelot for courage, ect….

The new parents turned to the questing voice, neither appeared startled by the interruption, nor did they appear wholly appreciative.

"Oh,.. but I thought, well,.. we were expecting another knight?" The mother questioned absently, her disappointment showing.

The young knight ignored the slight, explaining. "The first knight asked me to come, though I'm not really sure what virtue I possess that you could possibly want for your child?"

The new parents shared a look and the new father answered. "_**Perseverance**_"

"Perseverance?" The knight returned uncertainly. "One might actually call that a curse rather than a virtue."

"We ask that our child be granted the gift that his name sake embodies; a man who never gives up, never gives in. One who stays the course no matter the hardship it entails. A man who always does what is right, not what is easy. I would ask that he be granted the **perseverance** of which his namesake embodies."Hermione's steadfast reply was tinged with both hope and regret.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he asked tremulously through his curiosity, "H-His namesake?"

The mother nodded and grasped her husband's hand as she announced proudly. "We've named our son after one of your own. His name is _Harry_, Harry Weasley. He is named after Harry Potter."

The young knight's jaw worked soundlessly, beneath eyes suddenly moist.

"I,.. er.. **we**,…" he haltingly amended, "..are honored by your choice to so immortalize one who once was of our own, but perhaps you might wish to reconsider?" he added hopefully.

The mother shook her head, adamant in her choice.

The knight pressed further. "That name tends to draw unwanted attention, both benign and malevolent. He would need an abundance of _perseverance_ if he were to carry the burden that comes with such a title. Perhaps you might consider the name of one of your two father's or even a _brother_ perhaps?" He suggested.

"He's all ready is named after our _brother_." The new father returned with absolute conviction.

The knight's face paled at that.

"What will you tell the child when he is teased for no more than the name he bears?" The young knight asked cryptically. "That name carries a heavy price. What would you have him know of it?"

"He will grow to know everything that's important to know." Hermione returned emphatically.

"For I will tell him. I will tell him about the boy I met on the Hogwart's express. A boy who knew nothing of our world, yet he gratefully entered it for it couldn't have possibly been worse than the one he left behind. I will tell him how this boy and his best friend rescued a young, buck toothed 'know it all' from a mountain troll, and in so doing forged a friendship between the three that became legendary." Hermione paused to grasp her husband's hand in support.

Ron continued. "I will tell him how they became known as the 'Golden Trio'. How they rescued the Sorcerer's stone our first year. This same boy saved my sister from a basilisk his second year. Defeated a hundred dementors and rescued his Godfather his third year. Became a tri-wizard's champion his fourth year and was cursed to watch a friend die and a monster rise again. We will tell our child how this same boy became a 'Champion of the Light' and went on to ultimately defeat that same monster and bring peace to our realm at the cost of his own peace, his own heart. I would have our son know what adventure truly means and the sacrifices one must make to see it through. I would have him know the true meaning of **perseverance** and how it is fueled into being by the greatest of love. The love for one's fellow man at the cost of all that is dear to one's own self. Can anyone ask a greater blessing for their child than this?" Ron finished sagely, sharing a knowing smile with his beaming wife.

After long moments, the young knight agreed. "Very well. Who is to be the child's godmother?"

"Our sister, Ginevra Weasley." they chimed together.

The young knight nodded his understanding.

_Now the hard part. Please, Merlin, don't let it be so?_ He prayed silently to himself.

"And the Godfather?" He fought to control the trembling of his voice.

"We would have his namesake assume that honor, though we have yet to be able to ask him?' Ron answered apprehensively.

The young knight staggered at that, but quickly recovered himself, **too late**, as both parent's caught his startled reaction.

"And if he should refuse, then whom would you choose?" the young knight questioned hopefully.

"If not him, than no one." Hermione acknowledged stubbornly, a smile etched the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes surreptitiously caught Ron's and he imperceptivity nodded his agreement with her growing suspicions.

"Is the Godmother, to be, available?" the young knight asked thoughtfully.

"She's outside in the waiting room with the rest of the family. I'll just be a moment." Ron went to retrieve his sister.

Comfortable moments passed as the young knight watched the new mother coo softly to the child nestled in her arms.

"He's a handsome lad." The knight complemented. Breaking the quiet.

Hermione nodded her appreciation.

"Wouldn't you like to hold your nephew, Harry?" she asked with calm certainty.

"How long have you known?" he asked in return without pretense.

"I've suspected from the moment you walked into the room. No one moves quite like you do, with such power and confidence. You're reaction to our choice of Godfather sealed it. After that I had no doubt as to your true identity. I wish you would drop the glamour and look at your namesake with your own eyes."

Harry shook his head in his reluctance as he explained. "It's dangerous, my presence here. More so if it becomes known that you've named your son after me, doubly so if I assume the mantle of Godfather. I'm asking you one last time to reconsider your decision? I b-beg it of you?' Harry's voice cracked in plea, his moist eyes silently begging her to acquiesce.

Hermione only shook her head adamantly; a strange smile lit her features.

A moment later, he understood its source.

"There's no one I'd rather share this sacred duty with." A lilting voice sounded from behind as a gentle pair of hands traveled around his torso and pulled him backward into a hug.

He could feel Ginny's demure form press into his back, molding herself to the contours of his powerful frame and sighing gently as her face nuzzled into the hollow of his back.

Harry shuddered from the contact.

"G-Ginny, I…P-Please…?" He stammered.

"Harry." She whispered, tightening her hold.

"B-But Sanders? He…. You ?" Harry struggled to make himself understood, trying vainly too avoid the inevitable.

"Sanders?" Ginny stepped back, embarrassed by the fact that he knew about her having initially dated: Knight Michael Sanders. It was only a friendly outing at the time and if she were honest with herself; she'd half gone just to see if Harry would so much as notice. It hadn't felt like a betrayal then, but seeing his reaction now… ?

"Harry, really?" Hermione goaded, attempting to distract him from the discomfort his questions were having on Ginny, by diverting attention to his _glamoured _appearence. "A blonde?" she half snorted, trying to turn the conversation aside.

"It hardly matters to me just whom Ginny spends her time with." He pressed on, not to be dissuaded. "There's absolutely no reason it should have any bearing on me." Harry disagreed. "I'm only here because a stubborn, 'bushy-haired know-it-all', got an infuriating First Knight and his exasperating wife on my case."

"I knew I should have enlisted Emma sooner." Hermione berated herself for the oversight.

"Thanks" Harry returned sarcastically.

"My pleasure" Hermione demurred, grinning triumphantly.

Sighing, Harry conceded this one point. He snapped his fingers and the glamour he'd been wearing melted away to reveal his true appearance.

His piercing green eyes shown out beneath night black hair cut in a short military style. His face was more angular and his jaw had a powerful set. His former nondescript uniform was replaced by a blouse stretched tight over a powerful chest that gleamed with medals and ribbons that covered the entire left chest of his sleeveless tunic. A flowing crimson cape was draped over his left shoulder, freeing his sword for an unhindered draw. The sword he wore was silver hued and glowed with a life and vitality of all its own. It was the exact opposite on a Confederation Knight's standard: ebony blade. A pair of silver wrought bracers adorned his muscled forearms, beneath steel hard biceps. Each bracer was embossed with a scene denoting one of his past battles. One such; a young man, (a boy really), with sword in hand, stood protectively over a young girl, shielding her from a gigantic snake. The other; a knight knelt in near defeat as he held an entire section of a stadium aloft by the sheer will of his flagging magic, saving all within. Tailored black slacks that tightened over well developed quadriceps ended, tucked into night, black dragon hide boots that gleamed coolly.

Ginny thought back to Bjorn Dykstra's pronouncement that a "knight in full dress uniform was a sight to behold" that epitaph did not do justice to the man who stood before her radiating grace and power.

She'd already seen Mike in his dress uniform, the sight of it made her pulse quicken, but this?

Despite her best efforts, she could feel a telltale blush suffuse her cheeks and her heart raced.

Startlingly, Harry stepped forward and brushed a hard knuckle gently down her reddening cheek and wrongly assumed:

"I know, I'm not much to look at what with all the scars and such, you don't need to feel embarrassed. A lot of people respond this way when they see me at first. I've gotten used to it."

_Scars,…what is he talking about?_ _Merlin above?! The man actually has no idea?_

"Harry, you look absolutely gorgeous!" Ginny blurted out without thinking, causing her blush to deepen exponentially.

It was almost as dark red and full as the one Harry now wore.

'_GO GINNY GO', _Hermione cheered silently from her bed.

"I-It's only window dressing, Ginny" Harry shrugged indifferently, belittling himself in the process.

"Bjorn says it's "the man who wears the uniform, the uniform doesn't wear the man". she quoted coyly.

Harry grinned at that. "He does, does he?"

Ginny nodded, wetting her lips enticingly.

Harry stared at her mesmerized. There was such deep set longing in his eyes.

"I take it Mike Sanders wears his uniform well, then?" He asked dispassionately, erasing the suggestive smile from Ginny's face.

"Harry,…I..?" Ginny struggled to explain but he cut her off disinterested.

"It doesn't matter, in the greater scheme of things and has no bearing on my presence here this evening."

Harry turned his attention pointedly away from Ginny's dejected self and questioned Ron and Hermione again.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I cannot undo this once it's been done, nor can I control to what extent the gift I grant is utilized. He could well persevere to the point of his own doom one day." Harry warned them vehemently.

Ron and Hermione shared a look of mutual agreement, before nodding they're acceptance.

"So be it, then." Harry agreed grimly.

"The three of you need to place a hand upon the child." Harry instructed and each moved to comply.

"Now concentrate on your love for the child let it strengthen your resolve as it infuses him with your calming reassurance.

"Will this hurt him?" Hermione blurted in alarmed misunderstanding.

Harry's face soured at that. "I would never harm a child!" he declared indignantly, obviously offended by her assumption.

Hermione lowered her eyes, ashamed of herself.

Harry explained.

"He is newly among us and his understanding of the world around him is at its most innocent. What we propose to do will be a new experience and like all new experiences, can be frightening in its unfamiliarity. Your thoughts of love and warmth will calm him and make the experience an enjoyable one, not only for him but for you all. Now concentrate on what you feel in your heart and project it to the child. Will your hearts to his."

Starling the others; Harry began to sing softly. His voice surrounded and comforted them like a warm blanket on a storm swept night.

He sang a tale of ages past when knights first walked the land and men survived by the strength of their arms and the courage of their hearts. His voice rose slowly with the intensity of his song.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny stared transfixed as Harry's singing wove a spell that permeated their mind and hearts, filling the room with magic that sparkled in the air like dust motes on the breeze. It pulsed in waves around them, beating along in sentient rhythm with the melody of his voice.

At the crescendo of his song, a burst of pure silver energy burst from Harry's entire being like a solar flare.

The light faded as it seeped thru his parents and guardian's hands and absorbed into the chest of Ron and Hermione's newborn son, who sighed contently and drifted to sleep with the most curiously contented expression on his tiny face.

Ron pulled his hand away and stared wide eyed at his fingers."Whoa" he exclaimed in abject wonder.

"H-Harry,… that was b-beautiful." Hermione added breathlessly.

Harry quirked a half smile and shrugged his gratitude at the praise.

"But what was that?" Ginny asked, still staring at her tingling fingers completely stymied by the experience.

Before Harry could formulate a response, Ginny added wistfully. "And your voice, it was so beautiful. I swear I could feel your voice melt right into my heart. I can still feel it!" Ginny gasped in delighted disbelief.

"It was what you asked for; a knight's blessing."Harry answered incredulously with a hint of a knowing grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He had that same sort of expression on his face back in school, when he was the author of a particularly brilliant prank which no one could quite figure out. Years melted from his features and for a brief moment they were afforded a glimpse of another Harry from another time, a time when just the company of friends was enough to lighten the heart.

"That was more than a knight's blessing, Harry." Hermione challenged, her gaze scrutinizing him closely. "I couldn't even recognize the language you were singing in?" She admitted disgruntled.

"Atlantean" Harry answered simply.

"Atlantean!" Hermione blurted out in total shock. "That's impossible. Scholars have been trying to decipher the scrolls of Atlantis for millennia and they haven't been able to interpret a single page. How could you possibly…?"

Her fiancé's warning hand grasping her shoulder and nod toward their child calmed her before she could startle their child awake, though the baby had not stirred in the least during her tirade.

Harry shook his head and murmured "New mothers", garnishing a snort from Ginny's direction.

Hermione glared at Harry with impotent venom.

He knew she would not risk waking the baby by going off again.

"Such a suspicious nature." Harry goaded her. "Believe as you wish, Hermione, but, it **was** Atlantean and it **was **a blessing,… with a little extra something thrown in as a birthday gift." he added sheepishly.

"A little something extra?" Ron echoed, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"What did you do?" Hermione hissed in alarm.

Harry pretended to study his finger nails as he answered off handily. "Knight's blessing- Knight's prerogative."

_As if that explained everything_.

"What did you do?" Hermione growled growled again, only more impatiently.

Seeing that she was at the end of her tether, he relented. "Honestly" he gasped in exasperation in a 'dead on' imitation of Hermione's voice and mannerisms when she went into lecture mode.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as the other two adults in the room chuckled appreciatively at her expense.

"What good is it to bestow "perseverance" without the wisdom to guide one's actions? I merely gave young Harry a bit to draw on for future reference."

" What-Did-You-Do?" Hermione growled under her breath as her hand searched her linens for her missing wand.

"I gave him a few memories that will help him discern exactly what it means to "persevere"."

He made quotation marks in the air to emphasize his words.

"What memories? Harry,.. you didn't,..not Voldemort?!" Hermione gasped worriedly, clutching her sleeping son tightly to her breast.

Harry blanched at that. "Of course I didn't?" He retorted. "I gave him a few glimpses of his parents. It's sort of a greatest hits reel. I shared the memories of Ron and the chess set our first year and your petrified self our second year; when you had the clue about the 'basilisk' clutched in your frozen hand." He reminded her before continuing.

"Things of that nature. I threw in an episode or two of Ginny and the twins. I thought he might appreciate a firsthand peek of his family rising above strife and championing victory. I know it's something I wish I had for myself from my own past."

Ginny startled at hearing that he'd thoughtfully added her. It was a gift beyond priceless and judging by the way Hermione was openly crying and Ron was wiping at his own eyes, they knew it too.

"But what about you Harry?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Didn't you add any of your own experiences?"

Harry shook his head. "I gave him the best of what I had to offer. Young boys need guidance, not nightmares." he replied in a dead monotone.

"It's up to him what he does with the knowledge. How he utilizes it to guide him in his life is his choice. Judging by the character of his parents and extended family, I'd say he'll make the most of it and be all the better for it. The memories will present themselves in his mind's eye, like his own personal pensieve. All he need do to access the memories is recite the activation word three times in succession."he instructed.

"What's the activation word?" Ron asked.

Harry only smiled by way of answer. His eyes twinkled in that same infuriating way that Dumbledore's use to, when the headmaster knew a secret that he wasn't yet willing to divulge.

"B-But, Harry….?" Hermione collected herself enough to try and argue against his decision to not add his own experiences.

Harry held up a hand to forestall her. "It is done and cannot be undone. I've done what was asked of me, and proudly so. I apologize if it displeases you. I shall take my leave." he closed the debate abruptly, obviously feeling slighted and under appreciated by their reaction. They couldn' know what it took for him to come here nor the immense drain such a simple undertaking was for him at this time.

Harry nodded his regrets and with a swirl of his cape, he disappeared into the shadowed doorway to the hall outside.

Ginny bolted after him calling his name desperately, but he was already gone. Gone, except for the sound of hollow boot falls echoing down the empty hall ominously,… disappearing into the nether like some phantom specter.

She stumbled back into the room, bravely trying to smile reassuringly despite the heartache she felt.

Hermione was nursing a now awake and 'Weasley ravenous' little Harry, with Ron looking fondly on.

They murmured quietly, lovingly to one another, sharing tender touches between themselves and their son.

But for one moment of uncertainty, that could be her nursing a baby of her own, a baby with raven black hair. The color of hair from the only man she'd ever contemplated having children with.

The tears she fought to hold back came despite her best efforts.

Hermione reached out her hand beckoningly to her future sister in law. Her eyes filled with compassion for her best friend.

Ginny scrubbed at her eyes as she moved to take her future sister's hand.

"Oh, Ginny…." Hermione sighed.

"When he sang,.. and his voice? Merlin above, that was beautiful." Ron pronounced, stunning the two women with his input.

"What?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione shook herself regaining her focus. "He was singing **for** little Harry, but his eyes never left Ginny and I could see it in his face that he was putting his entire being into that song." She reiterated the point she was going to make moments ago.

"D-Do you really think so?' Ginny stammered hopefully.

Hermione squeezed her hand. "I know so."

"What was that magic?" Ron questioned. "I've never heard of anything like that, let alone seen it with my own eyes.

"That was magic at its purest form." Hermione smiled knowingly. "Or I should say; that was magic at its purest form for Harry. The breathtaking light that filled the room with its love and warmth, I'd bet anything that, **that** was Harry's magical core, his soul."


	11. Chapter 11: Burrow's end

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews and for the kind feedback. Hope you enjoy. MK

**Chapter Eleven: Burrow's End**

Arthur and Molly Weasley formally announced that they would be celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary with a lavish party to be held at their home on the twenty-seventh of June.

Though the party was by invitation only, every publication in Great Britain announced the news- which was all to the good.

The night of the affair saw an immaculately dressed, Minister Weasley and his wife first greeting their children and their dates, who then formed a receiving line behind their parents.

Bill and Fleur Weasley arrived first, Bill in a tuxedo, his wife in a shimmering silver gown that flowed over her shapely curves like water.

Charlie arrived with his fiancé, Katrianna, a fellow Dragon Handler he'd meet on a dragon exchange with Russia. Despite the fierce requirements of her chosen occupation she was a lovely girl with sandy blonde hair and a willowy figure, but tough as nails when she needed to be. The family agreed; Charlie would have his hands full in the years ahead- lucky bloke.

Percy arrived in formal wizarding robes with his long time girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater , on his arm. Penny, as she preferred to be called, (despite Percy's adherence to formality), had long brown hair, refined features and wore a satiny , lavender colored gown with a neckline that plunged just low enough to hold her stuffy date's constant attention, much to her amusement.

George arrived dressed in garish yellow robes that contrasted with his flame red hair and caused his freckled face to stand out prominently. Angelina Johnson, the Pride of Portee's star chaser was on his arm, dressed in an airy blue gown that down played her athletic figure, giving her a more delicate appearance.

Ron and Hermione arrived next and wore matching robes, he in blue with black accents, she in a loose fitting,( having still not lost her pregnancy weight in its entirety), black gown with matching blue accents. This was their first night away from baby Harry and Hermione was beside herself with worry, despite the twelve pages of instructions she'd gone over with infant Harry's sitter.

The sitter had infinite patience with the new mother as proven by the rigorous interview process Hermione had made the senior witch go through before even being considered for the job.

Ginny arrived last, on the arm of Confederation Knight, Mike Sanders. Sanders wore his dress uniform whilst Ginny absolutely glowed on his arm in a pale yellow evening gown. Despite the family's initial misgivings over their dating, they had to admit the couple looked good together.

There were mixed feelings over Ginny's choice of a boyfriend. Though all of them liked Mike Sanders and he was well thought of in general.

That said, the consensus held; if Ginny was going to date a knight, his last name ought to be Potter! Though no one dared voice this opinion within Ginny's hearing.

She seemed happy with Mike, whilst he wore a grin that never faded.

The receiving line was set along the path to the Burrow's garden, with Ginny and her escort seating guests at their assigned tables. Ginny escorting the men, Mike the ladies.

"Is he coming?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I wouldn't count on it."

"I wish he would come?" reiterated again, as she had so many times over the past several days. "I'd feel better if he was here"

"We all would, 'Mione, especially the knights." Ron agreed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is the auror captain actually admitting he could use Harry Potter's help?"

"I'm no good with a sword, Mione, and you know it. For this job we need people good with edged weapons. Though I've not any firsthand knowledge of it, the Knights claim Harry's a sword master, one of the best. Besides, I'm wizard enough to admit that when the chips are down, I'd take Harry in a fight over anybody, even you. Pound for pound he's probably the finest warrior the world over."

Hermione gaped briefly at Ron's totally unsolicited complimentary view on Harry.

Seeing the direction of Ron's current gaze while he finished greeting, yet another Ministry official, she asked coyly…

"Are you sure there isn't any other reason that you might want Harry here tonight?"

Ron pulled his gaze from Ginny's direction and glared at his fiancé. "You're not any happier about Ginny dating Sanders than I am."

Seeing her rebuttal coming, he added. "Don't get me wrong, Sanders' a good bloke and he's good for Ginny, not to mention a damn fine knight, but,… he's not Harry. I just always figured that once Harry was back in the picture,… you know?" Ron face mimicked his disappointment over how things turned out between themselves and Harry.

Hermione's face softened. "I know. I had hoped the same thing. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Ginny's happier than I've seen her in a long time and Sanders really seems to appreciate her. She seems like she's interested in a serious relationship with him."

Ron pulled a face at that. "Looks that way to me, except when Harry's in the picture. You saw how she was at the hospital? The minute she saw Harry she couldn't keep her hands off of him. Her face practically glowed when she was hugging him. I was surprised he even let her considering the look on his face when he mentioned her dating Mike?"

Hermione nodded. "He did a good job of hiding it, but I think he was jealous for all that."

"If that's how he feels, if he really cares, than why doesn't he fight for her?" Ron growled in frustration.

"You know why. There's still so much hurt there. When Molly rejected him she crushed his hopes, but it was Ginny that ultimately broke him. I saw his face that night,… when he looked at Ginny, his eyes pleaded with her, but she still sided with your mom. You didn't see it because you had turned your eyes away in shame, but I saw." Hermione breathed out regretfully.

"W-What did y-you see?" Ron asked hesitantly, afraid of her answer.

Hermione's eyes glazed slightly at the memory. "I saw Harry's hopes and dreams being crushed before my very eyes. I saw a man, in his hour of triumph; lose everything that ever mattered to him. There was such a depth of pain and hopelessness in his eyes. I thought he might cry,… but Harry never cries. Harry won that battle and saved thousands, perhaps millions of lives, but Voldemort also won the war in that his first and foremost goal was the utter destruction of Harry Potter.

For; 'neither can live whilst the other survives'." She paused to quote.

"I never thought about the prophesy in any way except at face value until after that night. I never even considered the fact that it doesn't really say either will win, more like it implies that both will lose. Can you honestly say that Harry won?"

Ron shook his head dejectedly, not trusting his voice. He pasted a false smile on his face as he shook another guest's hand as the processional wound down.

"I- I thought he was going to break down at first. I should have known better, considering how strong he is. Merlin knows, that if anyone ever had a right to, but,.. he didn't. Then, when he left,… I was so afraid. I thought he might kill himself. McGonagal was worried too. Sometimes I…" Hermione's voice began to break. Thankfully Ron interrupted her.

"Don't, 'Mione. Just…. don't. There's still a chance he'll come home. As long as Harry's alive there's a chance. I think making him little Harry's Godfather was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. Maybe little Harry can do what the rest of us couldn't, and he'll do it without even trying. But, Ginny,… I don't know? Either her dating Sanders' is going to make things even worse, or who knows, maybe it'll light a fire under him. If he really feels about her the way we think he does….?" Ron encouraged.

Hermione added hopefully. "He wants' to come home, Ron, he just needs to find a way past the pain. He wants to forgive us. I know he does, he just doesn't know how. We have to help him. We have to."

Hermione's eyes shift to a laughing Ginny as she added silently. _Before it's too late._

* * *

Two hours later the party was in full swing as happy couples took to the dance floor. Even a close observer would not be able to distinguish the fact that nearly the entire compliment of guests was no longer who they appeared to be. As each happy couple that had strategically entered the Burrow at one point during the evening, had been replaced by a _polyjuiced_ version of them that was really a knight or auror.

By the time of full nightfall, an entire division of Confederation Knights in disguise was lying in wait.

The Burrow had been carefully warded throughout the week to provide both an escape route and death trap. Though death trap was a bit of an anagram in this case as their quarry was already dead. The entire anniversary event was a cleverly construed trap set to entice the wraiths that had beset the magical public over the past year.

Wraiths were not ghosts per say, but the disembodied souls of the damned. They were souls that had either escaped or had somehow been released from hell to plague the land of the living.

Wraiths survived in the earthen realm by only one means: they must replace their soul's missing presence in hell, with an innocent's soul, thus maintaining the celestial balance. They were a more cruel form of their cousins: the dementors, in that they did not merely suck a soul from its body, consigning it to oblivion. No, wraiths ripped an innocent's soul from its fleshly confines and dragged it down to everlasting torment.

Unlike dementors; who no mage had ever successfully destroyed, wraiths could be destroyed. Fire could drive them off and if intense enough, could either destroy or force their return to the hell from whence they came.

Piercing their ethereal heart or decapitation by means of goblin wrought silver, would destroy them for all time, consigning them to oblivion.

Many thought this was too kind a fate for the fiends as it spared them the suffering their damned souls had so richly earned by a lifetime of foul deeds that continued even unto death.

The seemingly oblivious partiers did not have long to wait for their plan to be successful. Once night time fell, the surrounding woods around the south end of the Burrow's garden fell ominously silent, holding its breath in frightened expectation.

Crushing blackness descended, all but choking the lighted garden. Wands filled anxious hands, but even a score of _lumos spells_ did little to stave off the encroaching dark.

Anxiety quickly evolved into mind numbing fear as the woods around the garden filled with the agonized shrieks of endless suffering and howls of torment.

Arthur Weasley's tapped the second button from the top of his dress shirt.

"_Base- this is 'party crasher'…Hell's a comin!-over."_

"_Base to 'party crasher'- acknowledged. 'Wildcard', this is base,… do you have a visual?-over"_

"_Base this is 'Wildcard'- visual confirmed. Sara confirms a high concentration of unfriendly visitors approaching from the south and a smaller group appears to be working around quietly from the Southwest toward 'landmine'- over"_

"'_Wildcard', this is base- acknowledged. 'Partycrasher' is in command; 'wildcard' will reconnaissance and aerial support only. I repeat 'wildcard' aerial support only per Knight one's orders- acknowledge?"_

"_Base, this ' wildcard'-understood."_

"_Base- this is 'partycrasher'-understood."_

"_Wildcard, this is Partycrasher, on my mark, have Sara drive the south bounds toward us and keep an eye on those circling toward landmine- acknowledge?"_

" _Party crasher- this is wildcard-acknowledged. Good hunting."_

"Alright boys, you know the drill!" Party crasher, (Mike Sanders), barked in command from beneath Arthur Weasley's unassuming exterior. "Alpha team you're with me. Beta team take the left flank and Gamma the right. Set the tables aflame. Gamma, once tables ignite, banish them into the unfriendlies. All teams- use the distraction to engage."

"_Wildcard- distance to unfriendlies?-over"_

" _This is wildcard- unfreindlies at just over a hundred meters and closing fast-over."_

"_Wildcard- make your run on my mark. Three-two-one…GO-Wildcard!"_

Harry patted Sara's neck fondly. "Alright Sara, you heard the man-Roast 'em!"

Sara growled low in her throat. It held such anticipation that it sounded more like a purr than a growl to Harry's ears.

Sara was a _drake. _Not as large as their cousin dragons when they assumed their full size, but, Drakes were twice as fierce and devotedly loyal, unlike Dragons who tended to be wholly unpredictable at best.

In their natural form, Draken were hardly larger than a barn owl, more bat and lizard like than their cousins, but still able to generate flame more intense than a Chinese Fireball. When the situation warranted; Draken could temporarily grow to many times their natural size to roughly half the size of a young adult dragon, ie... about 6-7 meters from tip of tail to snout. Unlike dragons who's hides largely favored earthen tones, Drake came in a variety of bold, magical enhanced colors.

Sara was purplish hue with green eyes as stunning as her chosen familiar.

In the time of Merlin, Drake were revered familiars to the fortunate wizards whom they chose to ally themselves with. Fiercely loyal and protective, they were known to blindly sacrifice themselves to save their companions. Capable of producing flame far more potent than that of their cousin dragons, but unable to sustain more than a few short blasts of fire before they exhausted themselves. They could see as well in night as day and could swim like their lizard forebears. Drakes can fly and carry heavy loads for extended periods and last, but not least, they were intelligent creatures who could communicate telepathically with their chosen companions.

A pity they were extinct,.. well… _supposedly_ extinct.

Harry had rescued Sara from Lasvinius' clutches. She had been naught but a dormant egg that Lasvinius had managed to reanimate through an ancient Samarian resurrection right.

She had been little more than a hatchling, freed by Harry in the days of fighting before Lasvinius' men had finally worn him down and captured him.

He had awakened from his fevered dreams, some weeks after his own rescue, to find a drake roosting at the foot of his bed, vigilantly guarding him during his convalescence.

His reluctance to form attachments eventually succumbed to the creature's infinite patience and steadfast loyalty.

Acceptance turned to friendship until finally; Sara had found her way into his heart, filling the hole that was left by his own beloved Hedwig.

Once Harry was strong enough to resume his Knightly duties, Sara had insisted upon accompanying him on most missions, only temporarily ceasing the practice when she was in clutch. Now that her younglings had matured to the juvenile stage, she was less reluctant to leave them and was eager to rejoin Harry. The bond between the two was very strong and only growing stronger. Harry summed it up best: they were friends. Most people took friendships as a given, but not Harry. His friends were his family.

Sara had insisted upon accompanying Harry, now even more so as his abilities were still severely limited.

Sara dropped at deadly velocity; it was all Harry could do to keep from whooping with joy. It was brief moments like these that had him wishing he had pursued a quidditch career. He still loved flying better than anything.

Sara pulled up in the draken equivalent of a 'wrongski feint', and sprayed a jet of liquid green fire across the southern woods of the Burrow's property.

Unearthly howls of outrage and maddening pain echoed throughout the night air as tens of wraiths burst into flame, whilst others surged forward into the Burrow's garden in a mad rush to avoid the death raining down upon them.

When the last of the groaning wraiths had cleared the wood line, Mike Sanders in the lead of a platoon of the Confederation's finest, hit the dining tables with several carefully placed flame charms that erupted the accelerant laced tablecloths into a series of roaring bonfires that lit up the area for dozens of meters around.

The light of the fires was merely a secondary advantage, as on Sanders command; the inflamed tables were banished into the hoard of onrushing wraiths.

The knights never paused a second to enjoy the results of their handiwork, but drew Goblin forged steel and surged into the hoard of soul thieves, sending them back to hell- empty handed.

Bone numbing screams of terror and outrage met silent cold steel. Limbs of the damned fell upon the pristine garden, poisoning the earth with its foul ichors. Where blades pierced non-beating hearts; the victim burst into a million inky black dust motes that swirled away on the breeze.

The knights reaped a harvest of vengeance for the dozens of innocents that the wraiths had claimed over the previous year, but the malevolent mind that guided these creatures remained shrouded in mystery.

Only Harry had some inkling of the identity of the one responsible for the misery that plagued the British Isle. It was for this coming confrontation that Harry was preparing himself over the past year.

It was nearly that time.

The knights hacked and slashed with dread certainty, while wands ignited a stray wraith here and there as it tried in vain to escape the hell waiting for them if they should succumb.

The battle was entirely one sided. The stench of death and decay choked the senses.

No sooner had the last of the fiends fell then a scream of terror split the night air and an all too familiar mane of red hair came hurtling out of from the safety of the Burrow Home's warded interior.

"They're coming thru the floo!" Ginny Weasley shrieked in abject terror, her evening dress torn and stained with her own blood.

Ginny clawed desperately, at the Knight Commander, screaming that they had to get away.

"Wildcard, did the wraiths flank us?" A Concerned voice came over Harry's com link.

"Negative,Party crasher. Sara and I took out the pack on the north side. The property is clea… what the f-?! **Party crasher!** " Harry's voice bellowed in alarm.

"**Retreat to the apparition point on the north property line. Retreat-Retreat!**" Harry's warning voice came over the com link a second too late as shambling horrors erupted from the Weasley home.

Not wraiths. These were nothing that the human mind could possibly identify in its most fevered of nightmares.

They were stumbling grotesqueries. Once human, now twisted and tortured into nearly unrecognizable semblances of their former selves; these were the _damned._ Not the tortured souls of hells minions that made up the wraiths, but the finished product in flesh form-Demons!

Battle hardened men chosen explicitly for this assignment, knights who had distinguished themselves in combat, took one look at the nightmare that tore its way from the confines of the Burrow and fled chaotically toward the safety of the wood line and the apparition point waiting just beyond. It heralded the first time in history that the vaunted knights, (who had never so much as given an inch of ground in battle), retreated.

The demon hoard surged forward howling their blood lust. From his aerial vantage point, Harry could tell that few if any would get away.

"Stand clear, Sara." He ordered. "Fire won't give these pause. They may even gather strength from it. Try to save any stragglers whilst I buy the knights as much time as I can."

Harry patted his companion's neck fondly, fearing it was to be for the last time. Sara mewled low in her throat, obviously worried for the same reasoning.

With a flash of light, Sara felt his weight leave her, her primordial howl of fear and rage was such that the scrambling monstrosities hesitated uncertainly in mid charge.

Harry appeared in a brilliant flash of silver light, barring the path of the startled demon hoard. He wrenched his silver wrought blade from its sheath and bellowed out challengingly:

"**Stand fast, spawn!"**

"H-Harry?" Ginny pulled back from Mike Sander's grasp, just as they had entered the trees, and turned toward the sound of Harry's unexpected voice.

"Ginny, No!" Mike hissed in warning. "There's nothing you can do. Harry knows what he's doing?" He tried to reassure her, but the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Harry held the pommel of his sword before him and concentrated on summoning help.

White lights blinked into being around the garden and with their arrival the demons howled in both rage,... and fear.

"From darkness you came and to darkness you shall return,…or you will answer **to…** **the…** **Light!"**

A blinding flash of silver light burst from Harry's brandished sword and the hoard shrank back, screaming in pain and fear, tearing madly at their fellows as they tried to shirk away into comforting darkness.

"Beautiful…" Ginny breathed out goggling in abject wonder at the display, despite the horrors that prowled just beyond the lights perimeter, waiting in barely contained fury, anxious to sate their blood lust.

Eventually the light began to fade and the demons crept forward sensing an opportunity for the kill.

The white lights in the yard surged to Harry's side, suffusing him with an ethereal glow as the Light rallied to battle the oncoming night.

Ginny mouth fell open in total shock as Harry thrust his gleaming sword in the earth at his feet and swept the blade in an arc, daring the oncoming hoard to cross his border.

"He can't be serious?!" Ginny mouthed under her breath, knowing already that Harry** would** stand his ground.

With a scream of answered challenge, one lumbering grotesquery swiped razor sharp talons outward, only to find itself staring dumbly at severed stumps, spouting black ichor onto the Burrow's once pristine lawn.

Ginny blinked dumbly. _How could he be that fast? _She had never even saw his sword move, only a flash of silver and the severed appendages clawed futilely on the Burrow lawn.

Roars of challenge split the night air and the entire mass of writhing nightmare surged ahead.

Harry met them with stoic resolve. His body blazed with an inner light that drove the night back as it burned into the very flesh of the demon hoard. His blade flashed like lightning and thunder echoed overhead in a cloudless starry sky.

Ginny gapped soundlessly at the empty skies overhead. It was as if the very heavens were championing Harry's cause. She had never felt so small in her entire life.

She gripped her wand and hesitantly stepped toward the yard.

She hadn't taken so much as a half step before a lightning fast hand snatched her wand from the air and a strong arm plucked Ginny from the ground and bore her, over broad shoulders, kicking and screaming through the tangled brush.

"Lemme Go!' She shrieked uselessly, flailing like a limp rag doll, beneath a powerfully restraining arm.

"You can't leave him! You can't!" she begged, terrified for Harry.

Mike Sander's gentled her into another knight's waiting arm, promising: "And I won't"

Before reality sunk in and she could take back her hasty words, Mike and several other knight's that had remained behind, drew their blades and tore back toward the battlefield.

She never even got a chance to say goodbye or to make him promise to return before she felt herself pulled into apparition.

Moments later, Ginny found herself being pulled into her crying mother's arm.

"Ginny!" Molly shrieked in relief, smothering her daughter in a bone breaking hug.

"When the floo collapsed…." Molly Weasley tried to explain away her fears before she crumpled in tears and her husband scooped her away.

Ron and Hermione took her place, hugging her close in a three way hug. The rest of the family followed close behind, each visibly relieved that there youngest member had returned safely.

A flash of white cape caught Ginny's eye. She shrugged off comforting arms and flew toward the First Knight who prowled anxiously back and forth across his command station as personnel scurried out of his way and a harried looking sergeant tried in vain to raise someone, anyone on the com!

Ginny impulsively grabbed the commander's arm "Help them!" she demanded.

Bjorn Dykstra's eyes shifted toward the sergeant at the command council. The sergeant shook his head dejectedly.

Bjorn turned sympathetic eyes downward toward pleading liquid brown. "I'd like to Ms. Weasley, but the battle will be over in minutes if it's not already."

Ginny stepped back horrified. "You can't leave them there,... you can't? T-Those things.."

"Are only the beginning, I'm afraid. If we don't staunch the flow now, worse will follow in its wake? Please, all of you...?" Bjorn Dykstra's piercing gaze swept worried family gathered throughout the room. "Trust in **him**- he will see his brother knights safely home."

He did not bother to say to whom he was referring, they all knew.

Before Ginny could petition further, hollow footfalls echoes invisibly down the hall and Harry Potter faded into view as if he was stepping out of another dimension.

His tunic was ripped and torn. It glistened strangely as he moved. A bloody gash creased one pale cheek. His gait was not quite as assured as it was normally want to be.

Haltingly, he moved in Commander Dykstra's direction, but Ginny barred his way, ferociously beating her small fists on his chest, each impact making an ominously wet_-'_thunking' sound.

He winced ever so slightly in response to each impact, but otherwise made no complaint, nor tried to stop or avoid the blows that rained down on him as she spat accusingly.

"Where's Mike?"-**thunk**- "He went back to help you!"-**thunk**- "Is he dead?"-**thunk-** "Did you leave him to die?"-**thunk**-"Y-You always survive, while everyone else dies!" **thunk-thunk-thunk...**

Ginny collapsed in a flood of tears at his feet at that last, heart breaking accusation. The pain of her brother's passing came rushing back as fresh and raw as the day he'd fallen in the final battle.

Harry, unbelievably, spared her a sympathetic glance, before he reported wearily….

"Mike and the others are in medical. Some of the wounds are pretty serious, but Healer Griebe says they'll all recover fully."

Bjorne Dykstra nodded his head appreciatively at this. Before he could inquire further, Harry turned regretful eyes toward the Weasley patriarch and informed the family as a whole:

"I-I'm sorry, but the B-Burrow is a total loss. I-I took the liberty of securing suitable accommodations' and left the floo address for you at the receptionist desk downstairs. Consider the home your own. It is my gift to you both in apology for the hardship I've placed upon you and with heartfelt gratitude for providing me a safe haven when I was a teenager. I,… I'm sorry that I was unable to save your home."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, fading with each step until he was gone, but his footfalls still echoed ominously in the distance.

Too late, Ginny recovered enough to realize what she'd done. She'd denied the true love of her life for the second time. She didn't love Mike Sanders. She thought maybe she could, hoped even, but, she still loved Harry and always would. Now, as she stared in horror at his life's blood staining her hands she realized the full spectrum of what she'd wrought. She had sworn to herself that she would never hurt him again,… and she had done just that.

Too late, she screamed his name into the ether.

Too late, Hermione noticed Ginny's blood stained hands. They were covered with bright red blood...

HIS BLOOD!

Hermione gasped and pointed a trembling finger toward Ginny's hands.

Shocked expressions turned to pandemonium.

Bjorn Dykstra dispatched every auxiliary Knight at his command to find Harry and bring him to medical- knowing it was a futile gesture. If Harry didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

Arthur and Ron Weasley made emergency calls to the Ministry to summon auror support in the search.

Sergeant Fulsum found himself brushed aside as Commander Dykstra assumed the com and repeatedly hailed Harry, trying desperately to get him to answer his call.

Hermione starred dumbly as her future Mother In-law tried to console her screaming daughter while her future sister in-law scathed:

"I told you, but you wouldn't liszen. She az destroyed em." She nodded without a hint of sympathy in Ginny's direction.

"As long as he still lives, there's still hope." Hermione recovered from her shock to refute.

Fleur snorted at that. "Look at zat blood. Zat iz a mortal wound, non? M-Maybe before you were right in zat he did not care if he lived or no, but now…?"

"Now he will want to die." Hermione answered vacantly next to her. "He'll think she hates him. That was worry for him she was venting- not anger."

Moist eyes regained their focus with dread purpose.

"The graveyard?" Hermione suggested in a hopeful whisper.

Fleur nodded her understanding and raced to the apparition point down the hall, ignoring her concerned husband's calls as she apparated into the night. They both knew from past experience that Harry was want to seek solace at his parents and Sirius' gravesite and she prayed fervently that he had continued that same pattern tonight.

Hermione rushed to the com station and actually physically pushed Bjorn Dykstra aside.

"He'll answer me, I know he will." She offered by way of an explanation.

She hit Harry's com link. "Harry,… Harry luv, it's 'Mione." Empty static filled the com station speakers.

"Please come back, Harry? Please, Harry,…I know your hurt. Please baby you have to see the healers. You have to see the healers-now!" She begged into the radio council.

Still, empty static was her only answer.

Bjorn was about to muscle Hermione out of the way, but she held up a hand, indicated she had one last card to play.

It was a low blow, but she had to try.

"H-Harry,… the last time you left, you never said goodbye. Please Harry,… you owe me that much? Please talk to me."

A long moment passed, but finally, empty static changed to the telltale crackle of a com link activating.

Every breath in the room was held in hopeful anticipation.

"G-Goodbye,….'Mioneee….." his voice ghosted away over the com.

Ginny began screaming again, but Hermione never heard her as she had fainted over the com board.

Bjorn shouted for his staff to get a fix on the location as his com link was still activated, but before a single person could move- the link failed and empty static filled the airwaves.

"No Damn it, No!" Dykstra pounded the com board in impotent fury.

Fleur arrived at St. Timothy's graveyard, just as the night was giving way to dawn. Dark night skies began to fade to gray and purple hues as light began its ageless battle against the night.

She flew around the cathedral, making for the small cemetery on the east side. Her wand blew the gate off its hinges as she flew into the cemetery proper. Sacrilege, she knew, but greater still the sacrilege of letting one of the light's own pass into never ending night.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Silently she thanked the powers that be that their one desperate gamble had paid off.

A crumpled form was splayed across the cobbled path before Lily and James Potter's gravesite. A darkening pool was spreading beneath the body and Fleur found herself swearing in frustration as she dropped to her knees, heedless of the blood that soaked through her gown and choked her senses. She struggled not to gag on the metallic stench and wrenched him over.

" Oh 'Arry!" She gasped in horror at seeing the deep gash torn across his chest. She could literally see his heart beating within his chest- the wound was that deep, and that reassuring... His heart still beat!

If his heart was beating, then he was still alive.

She turned her wand on the wound and began to hurriedly cauterize the gapping wound in a desperate attempt to halt the blood loss.

Silently, she thanked Merlin that he was unconscious, so that he would not feel the horrifying pain she knew she was subjecting him to. It would feel like a hot knife being driven thru his body.

Merlin's kindness was not hers to claim though. Impossibly- green eyes snapped open and a viselike hand turned her wand aside.

"Let… there… be…an….end…" he gasped in dread finality.

She did not know which frightened her more, his willingness to give up or his pleading with her to let him go. The fierce pride that defined him, the _perseverance, _was gone.

"Non" with all the strength she could muster, she tore her wand from his grip and petrified him.

Feverishly she cauterized the wound, trying to ignore the eyes that stared in silent accusation as she struggled to save a life that no longer wished to be saved.

Once she'd finished with the wound as best she could, she pulled him close to apparate him to the one place, the one person, she knew could possibly save him.

His breathing became more ragged, his heart began to beat irregularly, and despite her spell and the certain knowledge that he shouldn't be able to move a single voluntary muscle, she could almost swear he wore a smug look of certain triumph- that he knew he was dying despite her best efforts to the contrary.

"If you die, I will tell Willie zat you died a coward." she promised, refuting his unspoken intention.

She would hate herself later for that, for now, she reveled in the fact that eyes filled with triumph had succumbed to resigned acceptance.


	12. Chapter 12: The will to live

Discalimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Thank you for the many messages and reviews, even the harsh ones. As far as a Harry/Ginny developement, I haven't wholly decided but am leaning toward not. Most things can be forgiven, but many are not forgotten. Such things are hard to get past when persuing a committment, but not impossible. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Harry is willing to do? MK

**Chapter Twelve: Finding the will to live**

She once thought she could bear anything, bear any burden that her fellow champions could, but Harry had proved her wrong and he being little more than a boy.

She'd grown since then. Had hardened her resolve, was more selfless and self sufficient. The tri-wizard tournament had matured and strengthened her, motherhood had finished the task.

All that she had suffered in the last war against Voldemort was as nothing to the agony that tore through every fiber of her being as she held the gaze of loathing she thought she'd never see within the green eyes beneath her. She bore it with silent resolve at first.

How she had managed to get him still alive to Hogwarts she couldn't fathom, but she had. St. Mungo's had been too far for her to try to dual apparate, thus Hogwart's was the better choice for more than just that reason.

Thank Merlin above that Madam Pomfrey tended to forgo summer holiday to remain in residence with her friend, Headmistress McGonagal.

The matron had been aghast at the horrific wound that rent his chest down to the organs beneath. She's all but pleaded to take him to St., but Fleur couldn't and wouldn't take him there for three reasons:

She was the best healer in England.

Hogwarts was a nigh impregnable fortress, where his safety and privacy could practically be guaranteed.

Lastly, Harry trusted Madam Pomfrey with his life and had done so many times in the past.

Pomfrey could argue away the first two, but not that last, and it had been that alone that had convinced her:

_Harry trusted her._

Harry Potter did not trust easily, but when he did, he did completely. His trust was perhaps the highest honor a healer like Pomfrey could aspire to.

The matter settled, she set to work at a pace that bordered on shear madness.

The first part had been the worst or so Fleur had thought, but she'd been wrong.

Harry needed to consume blood replenishing potions. Massive quantities were needed to make up for the critical amount of blood he'd lost.

"Can't you put et in the muggle way, with a needle?" Fleur had asked hopefully.

"I could, but that would take too long and he needs as much as he can hold and he needs it now!"

Pomfrey made to remove the _petrificus charm, _but Fleur forestalled her.

"Wha…?" The matron began to object but Fleur interjected, "There's no time to explain."

She seized the first of many vials and held it to his lips. "I know you have heard Mademoiselle, so please,

'Arry? " she begged, tipping the vial to his lips and pouring the contents in his numb mouth.

With a silent prayer, Fleur waved her wand over him and removed the _petrificus _charm.

Harry immediately spat the replenishing potion back into Fleur's face.

Madam Pomfrey gasped indignantly, but Fleur waved her to silence as she reapplied the petrifying charm, heedless of the rivulets of potion running down her cheeks.

Pomfrey's face went ashen as she began to realize that Harry was not fighting to live, but fighting to die!

Fleur swore at Harry in French for several moments, angered by the triumphant gleam in his petrified eyes.

She finally managed to calm herself and promised to conjure a long tube that she would shove down his throat and pour in potion till it came out his ears if he didn't cooperate.

"I mean it, monamei." She promised in a threatening tone, holding the vial up meaningfully.

Fleur removed the charm and though he glared viciously at her, he drank vial after vial of the foul potion without complaint, at least not any verbal complaint. His eyes though, those beautiful green orbs that usually held her with such love and esteem, now glowered at her with deepest loathing.

Then things worsened, or so she thought.

Pomfrey apologetically informed them that due to the nature of the injury, she couldn't risk an anesthetic as his blood pressure was dangerously low due to extreme blood loss.

She would have to repair his injured chest without analgesics and since she couldn't risk any movement on his part, he would have to be under a _paralyzing charm_. The charm would prevent movement and most sensations, but the wound was deep- Harry would feel every nuance of pain without so much as the luxury of being able to scream his torment.

His eyes held Pomfrey. The trust reflected therein both reassured and strengthened her resolve to continue.

Throughout the procedure, those same petrified eyes held Fleur with the utmost contempt. She shuddered inwardly, but bore his rage with calm and grace.

She spoke comfortingly to him. Told jokes, sang even. Her voice was nearly as beautiful and calming as phoenix song.

She held his limp hand to her cheek and kissed it reverently. She wiped his sweating brow gently with a cool cloth as Pomfrey probed deeply into his chest.

Her heart was breaking with the knowledge of the incredible pain they were putting him through. Some part of her knew without having the chance to test her theory, that Harry would have bore the pain silently with or without the _Paralytic charm._

She even went so far as to talk about the rest of the family, Ginny predominantly mentioned. She begged him to try and understand that Ginny was talking through her fear. That she loved him and was afraid for him, but just didn't know how to express it.

Impossibly, despite the _Paralytic charm, _Harry's eyes shifted away from hers.

_Merlin above, must he suffer so? _she prayed silently.

Part of her cursed herself for forcing him to bear this physical pain and to once again have to embrace the lonely despair that was his life once he was healed anew.

Another part of her delighted in the knowledge that he was alive and as Hermione had said; "As long as he lives, there's hope."

As exhaustion crept in and pulled at the corners of her eyes. Fleur found herself wishing for the thousandth time this morning that Hermione was here now.

Pomfrey was finally finished and closed the wound. Exhausted as she was, the healer went to her stockroom to retrieve a strong analgesic and a dreamless sleep potion.

There, in that brief moment of relief, that was when Fleur beheld the worst of it.

A silent tear tracked down Harry's too pale cheek.

He was not crying for the pain he was in, but for the pain of continued existence. She knew it was that which broke his resolve.

* * *

While Fleur and Pomfrey had been struggling to save Harry's life, Bjorn Dykstra was seeing to the comfort of his men, though there was little comfort to be had.

An entire platoon, twelve highly trained handpicked and battle hardened men, was screaming out not in pain, but terror, when the First Knight arrived at the infirmary.

Those were the knights that were still coherent enough to even articulate sounds. Two or three others were in a catatonic like state, and another was placed in a chemically induced coma to preserve his flagging sanity.

The name Potter was frequently shouted. Not in fear, but in the hope of rescue. Whatever these men had faced, one thing was certain; Harry Potter had not only saved them from it, but now was counted on to protect them from the nightmarish memory of what they'd experienced.

Without Harry's presence, there was no rest to be had until sedated.

Before he had succumbed to sedation, Mike Sanders had made a semblance of a report to his commanding officer.

What he had divulged in those precious few moments before oblivion claimed him would forever burn in the First Knight's memory.

"T-They came out of the W-W-Weasley home,….but it wasn't a home, not any more. A p-portal of black f-flame. Screams,.. screams of the damned…OH GOD.." he clutched at the First Kight's arm half to reassure himself of human contact/half to press his point home so to make his commander understand.

"Not wraiths,…worse…n-nightmares….DEMONS!" Mike gasped as if he was choking on his own tongue.

"They erupted from the portal, an unending tide of decay and misery. Such hate… Such endless, mind numbing **hate!** They didn't just want us dead, t-they wanted us to suffer, b-b-but they never got the chance…"

Then Mike's anguished eyes filled with wonder as if an angel of God stood before him.

"S-Should have seen him…H-Harry- Magnificent. T-That sword... it was everywhere. W-We wouldn't have been wounded if we had stayed back like he t-told us, but we couldn't let him face it alone-COULDN'T!... but afraid…so afraid" Mike's voice trailed away as he wept ashamedly.

"Easy Mike" Bjorn consoled, clutching the man's shoulder in support, trying to guide him back down to rest.

"T-They came…. Came t-to help. C-Couldn't see them c-clearly, j-just wisps of light, but felt them, we a-all did. They gave us courage. We found our feet and went to guard his flank… not that we made the slightest difference. "

Bjorn's face paled in understanding, but he had to be sure. He knew what Harry had been working on in secret.

"Who came Mike? Who did you feel?"he pressed anxiously, hopefully even.

"M-My dad, G-Gramps too… others…."

Mike Sander's father had died of lung cancer two years ago. Bjorn knew this as he and several knights had attended the funeral and proudly so.

"A-Are you sure, Mike?" Bjorn asked with renewed hope.

Mike nodded. "C-could smell cherry wood."

Bjorn nodded, having recalled that Mike's dad had smoked a pipe defiantly to the very end; he preferred cherry wood scented tobacco.

"A-At first I thought they were there for me. T-That I was gonna d-die. But,.. it was Harry. They came to help him, to fight alongside him. N-Never would've believed it, even for H-Harry?" Mike rasped in awe, his eyes vacantly seeing the memory play within his mind.

"H-He held them back. D-Drove them back. His sword was so bright,…like looking into the sun. H-He began to glow….l-looked like one of the s-spirits….beautiful. H-He forced that horde of nightmares back into the void,…and a-almost went after them….G-God in heaven!" Mike shuddered violently at that before he burst out the rest:

"HE WAS GOING TO FIGHT ALL THE WAY INTO HELL !" The words tore from Mike's raw throat before he slumped into his pillows-unconscious or so Bjorn thought.

Bjorn fell back into his chair staring vacantly, trying to imagine such a thing. In the silence of the now unconscious infirmary around him he heard Mike Sander's last awed words before he fell back into blessed unconsciousness.

" s-stopped him" he whispered. "they pulled him b-back from the void…the spirits-beautiful. Fought them, screamed at them to let him go….to let him finish it once and for all…they…pulled.. him…..back…

Mike Sander fell into a dreamless sleep and Bjorn Dykstra wept bitterly beside him.

_What could a man have suffered in life that would take his fear of hell away from him? What could harden a resolve to the point that he would challenge hell itself on its own ground? _

_What would it take?_

Not for the first time, Bjorn Dykstra had wished he had never sent Harry back to this accursed island. He cursed himself for his foolish sentimentality in thinking that his former friends could help mend his heart-_so foolish._

Despite the thousands of lives saved at the night of the Harpies quidditch game.. he still wished he hadn't of sent him, but what would have been the cost if he hadn't?

How long he had sat there pondering these things at Mike Sanders bedside he couldn't guess, but he was grateful for the distraction when a gentle hand fell on his shoulder and drew him from his thoughts.

Hermione found the knight commander lost in troubled thoughts at Mike Sanders bedside. Fleur was back and had found Harry, but would say no more than to reassure their family that he was recovering and …well guarded.

It was that last vague bit of information that drove Bjorn Dykstra to his feet and sent Hermione scurrying after him.

He burst into the waiting area, oblivious to the startled gasps of the startled family hovering around the weary woman.

Ginny Weasley had been sedated and was sleeping on a nearby sofa, tended by her mother. Minister Weasley and Auror Captain-Ron Weasley had returned to the British Ministry and Bill Weasley had taken his and Fleur's daughter home to bed. That left the twins, Charlie and Percy Weasley along with their perspective dates, still in attendance.

Bjorn Dykstra marched directly toward the weary half veela, (still radiant despite everything she had been through), and demanded worriedly.

"Where is he?"

Fleur arched an eyebrow and returned with vague weariness. "Safe"

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Terribly" She returned with conviction, though held up her hand to forestall the torrent of worried enquiries on the tip of the Commander's tongue.

"He has been treated and is sleeping now. With Merlin's own grace, he may even recover"

Hermione gasped at the implication.

Bjorn rocked back a half step as if he'd been struck. His hand held the sword at his waist in a white knuckled grip.

"Tell me everything?" he pleaded worriedly.

"Non"

Bjorn's eyes softened. They pleaded with her. "I do not ask as a commander or even a knight, but as his friend. He is precious to me and mine; a brother to me, a son to my wife and a beloved uncle to our children."

Fleur glanced knowingly at the rest of the family nearby, hanging on her every word.

"Par le vous François? she inquired.

Bjorn nodded in understanding, Hermione listened intently at his shoulder as both understood French.

A weary, anxiety ridden torrent of information bubbled out the veela as she imparted having found Harry in a pool of his own blood at his parent's gravesite.

Her eyes fixed on Hermione pointedly as she glossed over the rest of the troubling night's activities.

Hermione understood the message in her friend's eyes… there was more to this story-much more.

When she was finished Bjorn cocked his head to one side considering her.

"You won't tell me where he is, will you?" he asked in English.

Fleur shook her head slowly in confirmation.

"His familiar will be worried for him" he coaxed.

"She is already with him" Fleur intoned solemnly, adding. "She iz beautiful and deadly, I zink he iz well guarded-no?" she cocked an expectant eyebrow.

Bjorn nodded his understanding and answered smirking."Her name is Sara, and he is well guarded –yes."

His smirk faded and a troubled expression stole over his face. "His sword? Does he have his sword with him?"

"Oui"

"It's in its scabbard-yes? You didn't draw the blade from its scabbard?" He questioned pensively, his voice held a slight tremble.

"I did not draw his blade, but he holds its handle in iz hand. He would not quiet until he held his sword." she answered meaningfully.

"Do not draw the sword, not for any reason, not ever."Bjorn warned her.

"I would not presume to draw a knight's sword without his permission, nor even with it." she added in perfect English and with conviction.

Bjorn nodded satisfied, adding. "If you need anything, anything at all…?"

His offer was a genuine one, full of concern and she was grateful for it

Fleur nodded. "Zank you, Commander. I shall, of course, keep you informed as best I may."

Bjorn appeared to visibly deflate in relief. "You have the knights' eternal gratitude. For me and my family, thanks alone will never be enough, but,... thank you."

Despite her weariness, Fleur returned his gratitude with an appreciative smile as she clarified.

"What I do iz for 'Arry , 'Mione and myself, but, thank you for your kindness."

Bjorn gave her a card with his phone and floo numbers on it. "Anytime day or night- do not hesitate to call for any reason. "

Without preamble, Bjorn dropped to one knee and kissed her trembling hand.

"On my word as First Knight of the Confederation- you have our favor. Ask what you will of us, if it is in our power or no, we will see it done."

He turned and in one fluid motion that betrayed the law of physics, rose and marched from the room without a backward glance, leaving a totally stunned Fleur Weasley gapping at his departure.

She barely had time to register the honor afforded her, before a soft hand took her arm and pulled her away gently out of hearing from the others.

"Take me to him." Hermione asked.

Fleur pulled back gently from her grasp, surprising Hermione who frowned at her with a hurt expression.

"Non,… not tonight. Not until we have ad a chance to talk. Come tomorrow for lunch and zen we shall talk."

Fleur left the room, leaving her trembling friend near frightened to tears. She did not wish to leave her this way, but there was just so much to discuss, so many secrets that she had accidentally learned and so many more that she couldn't begin to fathom.

One of the secrets, perhaps the most startling one of all, explained so much about the mystery that was Harry Potter and the astounding successes of his chosen profession. Her veela half reveled in the knowledge, but her human half suspected that she hadn't even begun to consider the full depth of the burden placed upon Harry's too strong shoulders.

She apparated home, checked her sleeping daughter as she did routinely whenever she was up during the night or first going to bed.

Once convinced that her daughter was safe and secure, she hesitantly made her way to her own bedroom.

Harry had always been a sore point between her and her husband, perhaps even a jealous one for Bill, but needlessly so.

She quietly stripped down to her undergarments and slid under the sheets, tremulously reaching out to share her husband's warmth.

Warm, loving arms pulled her to him and she gratefully accepted all that they offered.

They made love that night, filled with passion… and need; a need to connect, to reassure, to make sense in a world that no longer made sense.

Just to feel alive, desired, loved…. It was such a simply thing, so easily taken for granted by so many.

After spending a night at Harry's bedside and learning what she had,… Fleur knew that she would never, could never, take such simple pleasure for granted again.

As she drifted off to sleep sated and content, she wondered how she could begin to describe to her best friend, something that was near indescribable in its grace and purity, balanced by terrible need and despair.

Where to begin…

* * *

Bill had gratefully taken Wilhelmina to park for the afternoon, easily convinced that what she and Hermione needed to talk about was something he would never want to hear, and would never forget for the rest of his life. It would change everything for him by questioning his every belief.

She had put it simply to him. "You are not strong enough to hear what I must tell 'Mione. No one is, Bill. No one with a conscious would want to be."

"Then why tell Hermione at all? Why not just _obliviate_ the memory and move on blissfully unaware?" he asked incredulously.

"I have considered it." she returned bluntly, startling him. "I will offer Hermione the same charity if she so chooses, but I will keep the burden if for no other reason than posterity's sake. Once things have played out, I will write what I know, a book perhaps. I will tell the world a story that will shame it to its core. A story about a man with the heart of a warrior and the soul of an angel. A story so full care and sacrifice. It needs to be told. People need to understand what they could aspire to. I will tell his story because it needs to be told more than any story that has ever been written before, save that of God's own blessed son."

Bill sat silently contemplating the breadth of her statement. After several long moments he added.

"I'll read it, cover to cover,… and I'll take its message to heart, but Harry will hate you for it. You know how he despises publicity. He'll never forgive you if you do it." He warned his wife.

What she said next shocked Bill.

"His mother will bless me for it. His father and God-father will rest easier, and Harry,…? Harry will be beyond caring then."

Hermione arrived early for lunch-no surprise there. They ate a simple meal of fruits and breads with a light lemon mousse for dessert.

The dishes were charmed to wash and tea was served before Fleur considered taking pity on her friend, who seemed to be developing a peculiar facial tic of a constantly reoccurring grimace as she waited in ever increasing frustration.

"For Merlin's sake, Fleur!" Hermione scathed. "What happened last night? Ron came home this morning pale as a ghost and shaking like a first year in Snape's potion class. He and Arthur took a squad of Unspeakables over to the Burrow to check things for themselves. They said it's gone! It burned down to the ground and the ground itself was tainted somehow? Ron swears nothing will ever grow there again. He said the whole place had an air about it that chilled to the very bone. He said he hadn't felt anything like it since the Chamber of Secrets and even that pales by comparison."

"I've never seen him so shaken, not even when he…. he and Harry….

Hermione's hands went to her face, stifling a sob of despair. "How did it come to this? How did we let it come to this? We're all guilty of it, all of us!"

She was nearly wailing now in her desperation to purge her troubled spirit. Fleur realized as she calmly listened that last night was a revelation for everyone around her, only most of them didn't have the luxury or the misfortune of seeing both sides of the whole.

"We placed our hopes, **our expectations** , on the shoulders of a child and he delivered. We had no right. **No right**!" Hermione shrieked.

"We robbed him of his childhood. Beaten, abused, manipulated…. There's absolutely no reason he shouldn't have turned dark- NONE! But he held true and fought and triumphed and then we took everything he had left. Everything but his dignity,… and now we're going to take that, aren't we? We're going to take it because it's all that he has left, and once that too is gone- it still won't be enough!"

Fleur smile grimly and simply agreed. "Oui"

Hermione's eyes flashed in fury. "How can you be so calm about this?"

Fleur cocked her head and returned "Would you rather I lied to you? Is sparing your feelings the only thing of importance zis afternoon?"

"You weren't there when Ginny woke up. Even though Molly had scrubbed her hands clean; Ginny kept screaming that she could see the blood. That she'd killed him. I almost brought her with me. I don't think she'll be able to finally calm down until she sees him alive for herself. You weren't there when Ron came home with a face like he'd stood before the gates of hell. You …."

"He az." Fleur interrupted her friend's rant.

"Wha,… what do you mean- 'he az'." She mimicked her friend's accent sarcastically.

"Ron az stood before ze gate of hell, or at least what remains of one." Fleur explained with cool resolve.

"Don't be dramatic." Hermione chastised clearly missing the seriousness off her friend's statement.

Fleur hissed her to silence and reiterated. "Ron stood before the ruins of one such gate, or portal if you will, but 'Arry? " Arry fought hell's minions last night. With no magic, not even a scrap of armor for protection, 'Arry drove ze demons of hell back into ze pit and zen,.. zen he tried to take his fight to Hell itself!"

Hermione sat gapping stupidly at her sister in-law, when she finally found her voice she stammered…

"That… that's not possible?" Her voice almost begged its denial.

"Because you wish it so?" Fleur demurred incredulously. "Dark magician's have summoned demons before- where did you zink zat they came from? When az ze impossible never aligned itself with 'Arry Potter?"

Hermione leapt out of her chair and argued more to herself than Fleur.

"Demons?!" She scathed incredulously, starting to pace as she conjectured. " Alright, sure, I could see Harry facing one or two in a pitched battle, but even Harry wouldn't dare to challenge the dark one's dominion openly. I don't know where you came up with such a ludicrous explanation for what happened…?"

"Enough!" Fleur barked blasting her friend with a full dose of her Veela ire. Her eyes glared briefly like a bird of prey.

Fleur was only half veela, and while she shared many of her forebear's abilities, a full transformation into a veela's avian form was beyond her. Though if angered enough she bore a fearsome resemblance, albeit briefly.

The effect was more than sufficient to startle even Hermione Granger-Weasley to utter silence.

Once calm enough to proceed, Fleur continued. "I do not make idle assumptions, nor do I exaggerate." She spoke in perfect English, which spoke volumes to Hermione regarding the seriousness of the situation.

"I come by this knowledge in a fashion for which I am not proud, but neither am I wholly sorry for."

Fleur proceeded to detail the events of last night leading up to the point of their current debate.

"Pomfrey gave Harry a _dreamless sleep potion, _and while he did drift into unconsciousness, he was anything, but relaxed as one would expect as a result from said potion, nor was he without dreams."

Fleur beautiful face twisted into a grimace as she recalled the previous night.

"He twisted and turned in his sleep. He cried out in denial, he shouted challenges. Despite the magical restraints in place as a safety measure to keep him from reopening the horrific wound in his chest, his thrashing was so terrible that he did tear it open anew. While Poppy Pomfrey worked through her exhaustion to close his wound, I called on my veela gift of empathy to try and clam him, to soothe his troubled dreams…."

"D-Did it work?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Fleur shook her head in denial. "Non. I only made things worse, both for Harry and myself. When my empathy touched Harry, I made a startling discovery, one that explains so much about Harry."

Hermione waited with bated breath while Fleur collected herself to continue; obviously whatever she had discovered was causing her a great deal of turmoil.

"'Arry is ze empathic." She said straight out.

Hermione gapped at her sister in-law. "T-That's not possible." She blurted in denial. "Men can't,… they're not capable, i-it's purely a female gift,… there's never been a…

Fleur reached out and grasped her friend's hands to draw her attention.

"He is empathic." Fleur reiterated calmly.

Hermione shook her head with a vacant expression. "Maybe some minor traits, but…?"

"A full empath, Hermione. The strongest one I have ever encountered. Full veela could not even come close to matching his power levels. It was humbling, to say the least." Fleur demurred with a shaken expression.

Hermione seemed to fold in on herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around her torso as if she was fighting off a chill.

"All this time and he's known…. He never said,….?" Hermione mumbled her fears to herself, oblivious to Fleur's presence.

"Do not worry so." Fleur tried to ally her friend's growing trepidation.

Hermione's vacant expression turned to one of exasperation. "Don't worry?! How can I not worry? How can anyone? A fully empathic man! It's like giving a wand to a garden gnome. A man would take advantage. He'd…"

"He'd what, Hermione?" Fleur growled dangerously, interrupting her friend's childish rant.

"He'd prey on a woman's vulnerabilities? He'd prey on our subconscious thoughts and fears and use them to his advantage. Listen to yourself? This is Harry, our Harry. Can you think of anyone who would utilize such a gift with more diligence and caution? I'm surprised at you."

Hermione colored embarrassedly, ashamed at herself for her knee jerk reaction.

"You're right; of course, Harry would never abuse such a gift."

Fleur grimaced painfully at that. "A gift? Non. For 'Arry it iz a curse. He only focuses his empathy on one thing and one thing only- suffering. He uses it to home in on Dark activity, **evil**, if you will."

Hermione's eyes went wide in understanding. "That's how he does it."

Fleur nodded. "Oui. That is how 'Arry is able to track dark wizards. He is a walking dark detector and his range iz incredible." Fleur remarked awestruck.

"H-how far away, do you think?" She asked nervously.

Fleur smirked at her friend's discomfort. "We are hundreds of miles from Hogwart's and if he so chooses, he could home in on our distinct essences with hardly a thought. I zink he could do so across an ocean if he ad too."

Hermione looked not only awed, but distinctly uncomfortable with that revelation.

"D-Do you think he ever…?"

"Never" Fleur answered definitively. "Such an invasion of privacy appalls him. You should be ashamed for even thinking it." Fleur chastised, but winked in amusement at Hermione's implication.

Hermione chuckled. "It must be awfully tempting though? How does he manage on a date, not taking even a peek into what the girl's feeling?"

Fleur face fell as she confided. "I don't zink he has ever gone out on a date."

Hermione fell back into her chair and her lower lip trembled. "N-Never?"

Fleur shook her head sadly.

"I- I am ashamed for what I did, but I cannot bring myself to regret it. I.."

Fleur voice faltered and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Hermione leaned forward and grasped Fleur's hand reassuringly as she nodded her understanding. "You _legillemen's_ him, didn't you?"

"I-I had to, Hermione. I had to be sure that he wasn't abusing the gift,…my veela sisters would never forgive me, if for no other reason than prosperity's sake." Fleur embarrassedly tried to defend her actions, before collecting herself and continuing.

"As I said before, however, I can't wholly regret my actions. "

Hermione leaned forward on tether hooks and prodded conspiratorially. "You saw something amazing didn't you?"

Fleur beamed at her friend. "I saw what happened last night, what really happened last night."

Fleur went into horrific detail describing the fight at the Burrow's gardens. She expressed her awe at Harry's courage and valor.

"I was reminded of ze arch angel's triumph over Lucifer on ze walls of heaven, when Michael triumphed and cast Lucifer down into ze fiery abyss. Blackened and charred they were. Mockeries of once men; twisted by hate, fueled by eons of unrelenting torment. Their talon fingers tore at Harry. Impossibly elongated jaws with razor sharp teeth snapped at him, but he stood at ze vanguard of his fallen comrades. His sword rained death ,ze true death, down upon zem. He drove zem back into ze portal, though they threw themselves mercilessly against him in a vain attempt to avenge themselves and avoid a return to their endless torment."

Fleur paused shuddering in dread. "Zen,… zen he did ze unthinkable, ze unimaginable!

'Arry breached ze portal, cursing ze denizens of the night and roaring a challenge to ze dark one, himself! Mon dieu, Hermione,… if zey had not stopped him..?!"

Fleur began to cry. Her tears soon became great racking sobs despite Hermione's attempts to comfort and reassure her. It was a heroic effort on Hermione's part as she was shaken to her very core, just hearing the tale, but to be there and witness it through Harry's eyes as Fleur had done...?

"Thank God that the other knights were able to stop him." Hermione consoled.

"Ze K-Knights?! Non,… N-Non." Fleur choked out through her sobs. " Ze s-spirits of ze Light stopped em. H-H-His Fazzer…..C-Cedric..-so many ozzers. "

Hermione goggled at her friend as she fought her tears back to make herself understood.

"Zey were there, 'Mione. Ze dead, zer s-spirits were there. Zey came to fight beside him. It was so terrifying, and…. So beautiful."

Fleur collapsed, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed out her fear, her shame, even her envy.

Hermione's eyes went wide in understanding. It was the only thing that made sense.

"The….stone" She breathed out in trepidation.

Fleur heard her and nodded into her hands as she struggled to control her emotions.

"All ze 'h-hallows', 'Mione." She managed to gasp out. "H-He az almost no magic of iz own, his core was severely damaged ze night of ze attack at ze Harpies match. 'Arry az mastered all three of ze 'Deathly Hallows'. He az forged zem into ze sword he now carries. He and only he iz master of ze sword, master of ze 'Hallows'. They empower him, making him a part of ze spirit world and zey a part of ours, albeit briefly. Zey relish it ,Hermione, ze dead,.. zey are drawn to him . His spirit gives them great comfort and warmth. Zey would do anyzing for him."

Hermione pulled her trembling friend to her as she broke into great racking sobs of wonder and despair. Once Fleur's breathing had evened out, she asked:

"Y-you saw that when you entered his mind?"

"N-Non. It happened when I placed iz sword in his hand."

Fleur went on to explain how Harry would not calm, even in unconsciousness. How his hand kept flexing and grasping at the air. Hermione's mind drifted back to Bjorn Dykstra's having confided that Harry would not still during his recovery until his hand felt the reassuring protection afforded by the feel of cold steel in his hand.

"A-As soon as iz hand closed upon ze hilt of iz blade,…. Zey came. Feathery lights winked into being all around ze infirmary. Zer was such a sense of warmth and peace. I,… I felt…"

"Love?" Hermione speculated correctly. Fleur nodded into her friend's comforting shoulder.

"A-And ze smells! Fresh cut flowers, cookies baking, warm croissants right out of ze oven. I-I don't know how I knew, I just did,… and I touched his hand where he held ze sword and,..a-and…."

"You saw them." Hermione finished in understanding, her voice carried a strange resolution to it.

Fleur nodded, sniffling. "Z-Zey spoke to me."

"Who spoke to you, Fleur?" Hermione asked pensively.

"Ze Headmaster was ze first, Monsieur Dumbledore. He said zat zey are all grateful, very grateful, for our steadfast loyalty to 'Arry." Fleur sniffed disdainfully as if the idea of not being so was abhorrent to her.

"He asked zat we continue to try and reach out to him,… to help him become whole once more. He said zat he must find iz heart again, zat **it** iz still 'Arry's greatest weapon and it iz needed now more zan ever." Fleur paused to consider this statement, turning puzzled eyes toward Hermione.

"At ze time I thought he meant 'Arry's heart, his courage, but now I am not sure. What did he mean zat **it** was iz greatest weapon?"

Hermione's eyes went out of focus for a moment as her mind drifted back to another, earlier time.

"His- Love." Hermione answered meekly. "Dumbledore always believed that it was Harry's capacity to love that was his greatest weapon against the dark."

Fleur snuffled despairingly at that. "After last night,…Ginny,..How can she or any of us possibly mend what az been broken yet again? You saw his face. He just stood zer and let her rain blow after blow down on him. He never so much as winced, but you could see it in iz eyes. You could see ze despair, ze pain. It was oorrible."

"It was." Hermione echoed hollowly. "Did the headmaster say anything more?"

Fleur shook her head. "Non, he drifted away and anozzer took his place." Fleur's hand shot out and grasped her friend's as she imparted her excitement.

"It was my Gran mama . She was so beautiful, "Mione. She looked like she did when she was first married to my Gran papa. It was the fresh croissants, **her** croissants zat I remembered smelling. She told me zat she was so proud of me, of us. Zat zey all are. " Fleur paused indicating the two of them.

Hermione cocked her head slightly, smiling warmly at that.

"She said zat ze light az placed it's hand on 'Arry and by proxy, us az well. 'Arry is ze Light's own champion and our service to him, our friendship, iz smiled upon."

Both women shared a contented look at that

"It is perhaps one of the things for which I am most proud, yet it comes so easily." Hermione spoke softly from her heart, adding; "It's easy to love Harry."

Fleur nodded her agreement.

After a comfortable pause, Hermione's inquisitive nature returned.

"D-Did you see anyone else? Did anyone else speak to you?"

Fleur winced at her question. This was perhaps the part that weighed so heavily on her conscious.

"S-She came to me….. iz muzzer, L-Lily Potter." Fleur broke down in sobs at the memory.

Hermione waited on pins and needles, dreading what would come next, but fearing even more not knowing what Lily Potter had imparted to Fleur.

Fleur sobs finally subsided and she haltingly began to tell Hermione about Lily Potter's visit.

"H-His muzzer,… so beautiful and… so sad, 'Mione. H-Her heart aches for her boy. Y-You can s-see it in her eyes. They are his eyes. **Zey,** were zer too in ze background; iz fazzer, God fazzer,… I even saw C-Cedric!" Fleur gasped at the memory.

"Ze men, zay were standing vigil around 'Arry's bedside, murmuring softly to each ozzer, and to him, but iz muzzer, she would not go to him."

"What?" Hermione gasped surprised. "Why not?"

Fleur 's eyes filled with tears. "H-He won't let her,…'Arry. Ze Hallows only call whom one wishes to see. Subconsciously, he wants to see her, so she iz able to approach when he sleeps or iz unconscious, but still holds ze sword and thereby iz in contact with ze Deathly Hallows. When 'Arry is awake and using ze Hallows , he will not let her spirit approach. Rarely does he even let his fazzer, or ze grim and ze wolf approach."

Hermione knew she was referring to Sirus's animagus form of a giant grim and Remus' werewolf form, respectively.

She could understand his trepidation, _but his mother_? She would have thought that Harry would give anything to have a moment with his mother again.

Though Harry had promised her and Ron that he would never use the Hallows again, she could understand his reasoning for breaking his word,... he had been given no choice when his magical core was destroyed.

He had once again put the needs of the public first and foremost, even over his word, which Harry had never before willingly broken.

The danger around them; the disappearances, the wraiths, the terror griping the British Isles,… Harry had not abandoned them in their time of need. Despite his, what,.. disability? He had found away to help by using the powers afforded by the Deathly Hallows, that and his own prodigious skills.

Despite the track her thoughts took her as she began to reason out the mystery surrounding her friend and his fortunate, if not timely, return to Britain. Her mind went continually back to the unsettling circumstance that Harry would not consciously allow the Hallows to summon his mother to him, when she knew that they both desperately wanted contact with each other.

"Why?" Hermione asked simply.

Fleur startled, at the unexpected outburst, but recovered quickly and explained.

"Ze d-dead, zey can hear our prayers for zem. Zey can feel when we are having a kind thought for zem. 'Arry's mama, she glows when she talks about him, but it iz tinged with such immense sadness. She says zat 'Arry thinks of his family often. He prays for their happiness, but he never asks for himself- not ever. He does not think himself worthy of her sacrifice for him. He does not think he deserves to see her. His papa and ze others have begged on her behalf, but he will have none of it. If zey press to ard, he forgoes summoning zem again. He az never summoned Tonks since she threatened him, but she was zer with ze wolf last night, so 'Arry must subconsciously want to see her still. Lily,… she begs us to find a way to soften iz resolve. On her knees she begged it of me. It was beyond heart breaking. Ze light almost lost him for all time when he tried to traverse the portal and challenge ze Dark One. He did not come back of iz own accord, ze spirits; his papa, ze grim and wolf, Cedric, Professor Snape, ze headmaster and dozens of others pulled him back. It took ze energy of hundreds of zem to pull him back from ze void. Many of zem are still recovering from ze toll it took on zer energy. 'Arry,… he fought zem, cursed zem to let him go. To let zer be an end to it once and for all…." Fleur broke down in tears at that.

These were the same words he spoke to her in the cemetery when he lay dying from his wounds. _Let there be an end…. _Those words haunted her then and now she knew why.

Hermione gathered her trembling friend in her arms and whispered reassurances to her that they would find a way. How they would do it, she didn't know, but they would find a way to heal their friend.

Once Fleur had recovered enough, she finished her tale, telling Hermione the events of the cemetery when Harry tried to stop her from attempting to heal him. She told her about Hogwarts and having to be restrained, but still he was able to turn his eyes,( filled with loathing), away from seeing her.

It was that last that gave Fleur the most anxiety, seeing the loathing for her in Harry's eyes. At the time she had been able to ignore it so that she could help do what need be done to save his life, but now? Now she was utterly devastated by the contempt she knew he felt for her.

Hermione pulled her broken friend to her feet.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To Hogwarts" Hermione returned succinctly.

"Non" Fleur pulled out of her grasp with a desperate wild look in her eyes.

"He will not see me, he hates me now. I cannot bear it, 'Mione. I cannot bear to see eyes once filled with warmth and kindness for me, look at me with loathing. Please, Hermione?" she begged, trying feebly to distance herself.

Hermione held fast to Fleur's arm and dual apparated them both to the gate of Hogwarts before Fleur could protest further.

"Whatever he may or may not feel, we'll face it together as we always have. It's time Harry Potter came home and I'm not taking **no** for an answer." Hermione growled, pulling a reluctant Fleur along with her.

They made their way thru the grounds and entered the castle without incident, several flights of stairs later and the two stood poised at the infirmary doors.

Fleur looked ready to bolt and run for it. Hermione looked determined to prevent her at any cost.

It was the sound of laughter from within the infirmary that distracted the two.

They pushed the infirmary door open a crack to take a peek inside. A grinning Harry Potter was propped up into a sitting position, chortling along with an obviously amused Headmistress McGonnagal and a laughing Poppy Pomfrey.

Harry appeared in the midst of telling the two some story or such regarding his past adventures.

"Weren't you terrified?" Poppy Pomfrey gasped in a frightened tone.

"Terrified?" Harry questioned with a smirk. "I was terrified I'd piss myself laughing. You should have seen the look on that nun's face, Har-Har!" Harry howled with laughter, before he grasped his sides to brace his chest from muscle spasms, while he tried to fight down his laughter.

"Oh, he-he, oww this hurts, arghhh!" His laughter turned to howls of pain.

Poppy Pomfrey grabbed up a pillow and braced his chest with it, admonishing him.

"If you break open that wound again, I'll have you in here a month Mr. Potter." she threatened.

Harry immediately stilled. He wiped a tear from his eye and returned cheekily. "Now there's a real mood killer. Still, I suppose it's the first time you've had a full grown man in a bed for quite some time."

McGonnagal snorted a laugh at the look on her friend's outraged face.

"Minnie!" She gasped indignantly.

"Well, it's true." her friend returned incredulously.

This set Harry to laughing again. "Har, oh, ow-oww!"

Pomfrey shot him a pitiless look and snorted. "Serves you right, laughing at a poor maid's expense."

Hermione turned a stupefied look on her friend. Fleur face still held a pensive, uncertain quality. Though visibly relieved to see Harry in good spirits, she was still afraid of how he would respond to seeing her.

Hermione made the decision easy for her. She grabbed her friend's hesitant hand and pulled her into the room before she had a chance to complain.

"Good afternoon" Hermione announced to the room, pulling a struggling Fleur along with her.

"' Mione!" Harry cheered delightedly. Gingerly he turned slightly to the side to get a better vantage point to see who Hermione was pulling along behind herself.

"Fleur?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

Fleur halted her struggles upon hearing him speak her name, slightly mollified that his tone sounded more questioning, than unwelcome.

She took a hesitant step around Hermione and cast him a sheepish glance as she smoothed down her robes.

"'Arry,…I…" She began haltingly but her words dropped off when he smiled and held out his arms beckoningly to her.

Fleur flew into his embrace and peppered his face with brief chaste kisses.

"Here now what's all this?" He seemed genuinely surprised by her actions.

Fleur pulled back and searched his face."You're not angry wiz me?" she asked in a frightened tone.

Harry frowned at her. "Angry? Certainly not. How can I be anything but grateful to the angel that saved my life?" he reprimanded.

"But, 'Arry you were so angry at ze graveyard?" she pleaded, searching his eyes for some hidden ire on his part.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "The last thing I remember is praying that the Great Father of magic would let me be with my parents. That was before he sent an angel in answer to my prayer. A beautiful angel with flowing silver hair that saved me."

Fleur blushed a deep red and lowered her eyes sheepishly, "Angel indeed." she huffed half heartedly, blushing faintly at the compliment.

Harry raised her chin and his emerald gaze bore into her silvery blue eyes. "An angel." He verified with complete certainty. "My angel."

Fleur melted into his side and sobbed her relief into his neck.

"What's all this?" he chastised gently, turning a genuinely baffled expression to Hermione .

Hermione stepped up to his side and grasped his other hand warmly with both her own.

"She's just been very worried about you, we all have. You don't remember fighting with her, then? She said you fought her efforts to heal you?"

"What?" His puzzled eyes turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Knight Potter was delirious with blood loss. I doubt he has the faintest idea what he was or wasn't doing last night?" Pomfrey came to his defense.

Hermione nodded her acceptance of Pomfrey's explanation. It fit with her own knowledge regarding such life threatening injuries, besides, she wanted to believe her. She couldn't fathom Harry ever giving up, no matter how dire the circumstances.

"He's on the mend, but it will be some time before he can resume his duties as a Knight."

"I'm not a knight." Harry groused, but was largely ignored as Pomfrey talked over him.

"I've made some arrangements that **Knight **Potter,( she emphasized the word _knight_), has agreed to, albeit reluctantly."

"A-Arrangements?" Hermione inquired uncertainly.

"I, er, have decided to remain in Britain. Pomfrey has contacted a private healer in training to oversee my therapeutic recovery. The healer comes highly recommended and is not averse to residing with me in England for the duration that her services are required as she has family here." Harry returned with a knowing grin.

Hermione gapped stupidly at him. She couldn't believe it. _He was coming home? _

Fleur pulled back from his shoulder with a dumb founded expression_._

"Y-You're coming home?" she snuffled, not daring to hope it was true.

"I'm returning to England, yes." He corrected simply with a small smile.

From her vantage point, McGonagal could see Harry's eyes were twinkling the way that Albus' used to. She hated her part in this, but still had hope for him as she had faith in the two witches who obviously meant so much to him, and vice versa.

Harry's knowing grin broadened, if that was possible. "I think you'll approve of our choice in healers? A bit expensive, but well worth the cost, I'm sure?"

Hermione eyes narrowed suspiciously. _He wouldn't?_

"Who iz it?" Fleur asked.

"Gabby" Harry returned with a cheeky wink.

" Gabby?" Fleur's eyes went out of focus. "Gabrielle? My sister?! " Fleur screeched excitedly.

_He would. _Hermione rolled her eyes. _Only Harry can stir up trouble like this. _She thought exasperatedly.

_Ginny will go mental over this._

"Oh' Arry! Say you vill stay with us? Zat would be so wonderful. Willie would love to have her auntie and you in ze same house for a visit."Fleur cheered absolutely delighted by the news, though Hermione watched their interplay with a skeptical eye. Something was a tad off for her liking.

"I thought, perhaps she'd stay with me at Potter Manor." Harry returned politely, not wanting to discourage his friend. "There's plenty of room, and you'd all be welcome to visit as often as you like. Make it a holiday, it would be wonderful to have everyone over for a bit, er,.. that iz if my healer thinks I'm up to it?" he finished sheepishly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at that. _Just what are you playing at, ?_

"Ze, manor? All alone together? Non." Fleur returned with a note of finality. "My sister, all alone wiz you in zat big mansion and all zos bedrooms? I zink not." she argued primly.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the accusation. "I'm hardly in any condition to take advantage of anyone just now?" he reassured her.

"Non" If not at ze cottage zen zer iz plenty of room at ze Black mansion?" She suggested. "'Arry, giving ze Weasley's a mansion? Zat was incredibly generous of you." she praised him affectionately.

"It was the least I could do after destroying their home. I hope they aren't too disappointed? It was the closest thing I had to London, and I wasn't using it for anything anyway. "He ventured.

"Like it? Molly; she iz gushing over it. Zay all are speechless, such an amazing gift. You must come stay zer, it will be good for you." she urged happily.

"I'm not sure?" Harry drawled hesitantly. "I don't want to impose?"

"Nonsense. You and Gabrielle will be more zan welcome. You will see."

Harry nodded, grinning at his friend's enthusiasm. "Alright, then, If Molly and Arthur agree. I'm sure that Gabby and I would be pleased to accept." Harry agreed cheerfully, glancing Hermione's way.

_Oh, well played Mr. Potter!_ She groused inwardly.

"Hermione, did you here? 'Arry iz coming home. Iz zat not wonderful?" Fleur crowed turning to her friend,

"er, brilliant." Hermione agreed half heartedly, shooting Harry an half exasperated, half suspicious glare that clearly said: _What are you playing at?_

Harry just smiled over Fleur's head and smirked cunningly by way of reply.


	13. Chapter 13: Rest and Recuperation

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Thirteen: Rest and Recuperation**

Harry arrived at Black Mansion, now aptly named, _The Warren_. It was a prestigious estate in south Wales that boasted twelve well appointed suites and some twelve hundred acres of land including a regulation quidditch pitch, stables and riding meadows, orchards, and a sprawling vegetable garden that could feed a small army,( with the Weasley appetite- it would need to).

The mansion came with one other unique amenity; house elves. Despite Molly's haughty arguments to the contrary, even she could not adequately see to the daily care and operation over such a large estate, and so, begrudgingly she accepted the elves presence and in time came to relish the _little dears_ as she fondly called them.

Harry was driven to the estate via a ministry vehicle and pair of guards , in the care of his personal healer; Gabrielle Delacour and her sister, Fleur Delacour- Weasley, as he would not be able to _apparate _or use _port key_ travel in his current condition.

There had been some argument, (with Fleur serving as his personal emissary between himself and the Weasley family), over accommodations as Harry did not feel comfortable surrounded by the entire Weasley brigade and their natural, er… exuberance. In her heightened excitement just to be afforded any measure of exposure to Harry once more, Molly had quickly agreed to Harry's terms and had provided he and Gabrielle exclusive private use of the Warren's south wing, complete with its own kitchen and other comfort facilities, including three elves.

Harry arrived to find the entire Weasley family awaiting his arrival at the foyer to the estate.

Gingerly supported between both sisters, he haltingly made his way up the front steps to the Weasley home. He wore only a breeches and a cloak over a bare, heavily bandaged chest, already lightly stained with his blood by the time of his arrival.

Molly gasped on seeing his condition and moved expectantly toward him, obviously intending to 'Molly coddle' him. A hiss from her husband and Harry's half step back in trepidation halted her.

"Molly" Arthur had hissed. "Remember who he is?" her husband harshly reminded her.

Molly nodded to her husband and curtsied smoothly as she greeted, what would be for any wizarding home, an esteemed guest.

"You honor us with your presence in our home, Lord Knight. Enter and be welcome as are all the light's own, whose cause you champion."

The tension in the room was palpable as all eyes warily watched Harry's uncertain reaction. You could almost feel the sigh of relief when Harry returned her welcome elegantly despite his obvious pain and uncertainty.

"You are most kind and generous, Mrs. Weasley, however, I would think myself remiss if I did not clarify that I no longer hold the position of Confederation Knight."

Arthur stepped up to his wife's side and bowed formally. "Nonsense, is it not plainly stated amongst the knights that once a knight, always a knight?"

Harry begrudgingly nodded. "It is so said, but, I…?"

Arthur cut him off before he could argue further a point that none of them were too keen to accept.

"I hold in my hand an official proclamation that I believe shall settle this argument once and for all time."

Arthur unrolled the parchment and both Fleur and Gabrielle could feel Harry stiffen in trepidation as Arthur read aloud for all those gathered to hear.

**"_Be it known: Harold James Potter, son of James and Lillian Potter;_**

**_Is hereby proclaimed and heralded as protector of the English realm; Enlisted to serve its land and people in continued service as he has so unflaggingly done on numerous occasions to date._**

**_He is commanded into our presence on the day of August 31, 2010, for an official awards ceremony at Buckingham Palace where his deeds to the English Realm shall be scribed into the annals of our honored histories. _**

**_ Set forth by my hand:_**

_** Elizabeth II, Queen of England** _

**_P.S. Dinner Reception and Ball to follow ceremony. Please R.S.V.P. to Royal Steward final guest list of attendees by no later than August 23, 2010. No more than one hundred guests may attend, exclusive of honored party and subsequent immediate family members._**

**_Formal Attire Only_**

Arthur had no sooner finished reading the queen's proclamation than a cheer erupted from his gathered family.

The cheering fell to an eerie silence when they realized Harry's trembling was in tears of guilt and remorse.

"N-Nooo!" Harry wailed despairingly. "I can't possibly accept? I couldn't... d-doesn't her majesty realize..?"

Overcome by his emotions, his knees buckled from under him and Harry succumbed to his exhaustion pitching forward toward the floor.

Ron and George moved forward to try and catch him, but some quick wand work by Gabrielle, saved him from impacting the floor. Gently she levitated him in the air asking her sister to direct them to their appointed rooms.

She thanked the stricken faced Weasley matron for her polite welcome and reassured her and the rest of the room accordingly that...

"Please understand, he is exhausted and has been through a difficult ordeal. I'm sure he will feel differently once he has rested properly. He needs time to heal and adjust."

She looked fondly at her floating charge and added in perfect English. "Be patient with him. His presence here alone is a difficult, but very positive step forward. With time, patience, understanding…" here she paused and something wondrous ghosted through her eyes as she continued… ",and with love; I'm hopeful that he will come to see this day as the beginning of the life that he has thus far been denied and I am sure we all hope to be part of. For the both of us; I thank you for your kind welcome."

Gabrielle curtsied appreciatively and then gently levitated Harry's unconscious form in the direction that Fleur indicated to her.

"Hermione, could you bring his things, please?" Gabrielle asked pointedly, nodding in the direction of Harry's scab barded sword and satchel.

"O-Of course." Hermione agreed, grateful for the distraction.

Ron moved to help her, by reaching for Harry's sword hilt.

"No!" Hermione nearly shrieked in warning, startling the rest of the already tense room.

"Not from the hilt, just the scabbard." Hermione clarified her previous concern. "No one save a knight

may lay a naked hand upon another knight's blade."

Ron acquiesced without the slightest hint of complaint and carefully lifted the sword by its scabbard.

"Blimey, how does he manage the weight?" Ron gasped in surprise at how heavy the sword was to heft.

"It probably seems light by comparison to the weight that rests on his shoulders twenty four hours a day, Ron." His father surmised, half supporting his worried wife, who clung to his side.

Ron gulped and nodded his agreement to his father before setting off to Harry's room, holding his sword reverently in his hands.

"Oh, Arthur…" Molly snuffled into his side. "H-He still thinks …

"I know, Molly." he agreed in disappointment. "The wounds are deep, but in time..." here he shifted his eyes toward his cowering daughter hidden behind George's shoulder.

"With love and understanding, he will heal."

* * *

**Nearly three days later… **

Molly and Ginny watched from the mansion's garden windows as Gabrielle helped Harry take hesitant steps after more than forty eight hours of undisturbed sleep.

Both were poised near the threshold of the door, wary to spring at a moment's notice if needed.

Despite a battery of strengthening and healing potions, Harry was still alarmingly weak. The reason for such was known to a precious few, Minerva McGonagal, Poppy Pomfrey and of course his personal healer: Gabrielle Delacour.

The reason for his slowed healing process was a simply one; Harry had little or no magical core for the potions to work on and magical potions were largely ineffective on muggles. That is to say, the potions did have some effect on Harry, but in a very limited capacity. For reasons the afore mentioned three confidents could not fathom, Harry's diagnostic scans showed the presence of vast magical power being present around his body, but no magical core, which even a common wizard or witch knew was wholly impossible.

When questioned about this phenomenon, Harry merely shrugged indifferently, claiming ignorance. In Potter speak, that usually meant if Harry knew, he wasn't about to vouch the details and further questioning would prove fruitless.

Each tentative step he took in the garden was like a marathon for him. Sweat broke out on his brow and he gasped wearily, trying to catch his wind after only a handful of small steps.

Gabrielle kept one eye fixed on her charge; with her wand at the ready at all times should he need assistance.

The other eye she kept fixed on the Weasley women spying at the garden doorway. The smaller of the two, in particular, held her close scrutiny.

She considered herself, first and foremost, Harry's healer. After that, Merlin willing, she hoped to fulfill a more important, albeit, permanent role in his life. She would be damned if "Ze Weazy tease", (as she was want to refer to Ginny), was going to cause him any more heartache.

_Strange that in times of unrest her accent came to the fore._

Fleur had raised an amused eyebrow at Gabrielle's reaction toward Ginny, but avoided comment lest she unknowingly invite Gabrielle's legendary wrath. While younger, Gabrielle had less control of her veela temper than her older sister. It took little to incur Gabrielle's ire, and it was even more tenuous when the subject of one; Harry Potter, was involved. If Fleur was honest with herself; Ginny was no better. The Weasley temper was legendary, especially where their youngest member was concerned.

Ginny's quidditch season had finished with a dull thud. Obviously preoccupied by her emotional breakdown, ( after the events from the Battle at the Burrow), Ginny's game had been notably off and with it the Harpies fortunes in the playoffs took a likewise downward turn. Thus with the quidditch season over till training camp began again in late fall, Ginny was free to devote her days, (much to Gabrielle's chagrin), toward reestablishing relations with Harry.

Oh, there was nothing overt. Coy remarks at the dinner table when the two reluctantly agreed to accept one of the many invitations for dinner that Molly sent.

Ginny tended to cast shy, apologetic glances Harry's way on the rare occasion he felt comfortable enough to be around the family.

Fresh cut flowers delivered by way of the elves every morning from Ginny, complete with a supportive note and the occasional plea for him to allow her to explain her previous meltdown. There were warm invitations requesting he and of course, Gabrielle, to dine with the family for the legendary Weasley Family- Sunday brunches.

On the one such occasion, Harry and Gabby dined with the rest of the family. Ginny arrived for supper wearing a rather revealing sundress and a white rose behind her ear. She knew Harry favored only white roses for her upon a time.

Ginny had smirked victoriously toward Gabby after both witches noticed Harry's gaze drift toward Ginny's hair on more than one occasion during the meal. For her part, Ginny earned herself a venomous glare in return from the young healer at Harry's elbow.

Fleur and Hermione shared half worried, half amused glances at the silent dual between the two formidable witches vying for Harry's personal attention.

Harry, for his part, remained a perfect gentleman. He politely declined Ginny's requests for a private conversation. He gently reassured her that he held no animosity for her reaction after the Battle, but plainly was not comfortable even considering her as anything more than a friendly, be it _platonic_, acquaintance for the time being and perhaps permanently so.

Despite his cool rebuff, Ginny remained hopeful, if undaunted.

Gabby, on the other hand; Gabrielle Delacour, or Gabrielle, as she was known to her close friends, for not even family members dared to call her by her hated nickname of "Gabby". Though, oddly, she found the term endearing when elicited by Harry, and absolutely glowed when he referred to her in that familiar.

Gabrielle had harbored a deep seated infatuation for Harry ever since he'd rescued her from Black Lake during the second task of the Tri-wizard's Tournament. The crush she'd had grew into something more profound over the years, much as Ginny's once did.

Unlike Ginny, Gabrielle's feelings for Harry were based more on the legend than the man himself, but that was rapidly changing as she grew to know him more intimately over the time of his convalescence in her care.

Gabrielle always knew his courage was legendary, but when he stoically bore the pain of his daily treatments to lessen the scarring from his wound, ie… lest it impair his mobility; Gabrielle's esteem of Harry rose exponentially.

One such afternoon after a particularly grueling treatment; a tearful Gabrielle sought the compassionate ear of her sister.

Fleur anxiously asked her sister what was wrong at catching a glance of her tear filled eyes before she collapsed into her sister's embrace.

"What iz wrong, iz it 'Arry?"

"Y-Y-Yes." she stuttered woefully into her sister's shoulder.

Fleur tensed up and held tight to her sister when she began to turn toward the direction of Harry's room.

"H-He's sleeping." Gabrielle calmed her worried sister.

"Then what?"

Gabrielle pulled back and searched her sister's eyes for some answer that she knew she wouldn't find.

"How can he bear it? The treatments to lessen his scarring; they are almost cruel. The pain must be terrible, but he never cries out. I-I told him it was alright, that he didn't need to be brave for me, zat I wouldn't think any less of him, b-but, he only clasped my hand to reassure **me** as he smiled through the p-pain." She sobbed inn both anguish and wonder.

Fleur nodded her head in understanding and smiled supportively to her little sister.

"Ah, yes." She nodded knowingly. "Ze mystery of ze man, who seems zo much more zan just a man? You may az well consult a crystal ball az try to anticipate how zat one will respond if you consider him in ze logical sense, Gabrielle. Wit 'Arry,… you must see him with your heart. When you can do zat, zen you will see somezing wondrous indeed." she promised her sister, patting her on the head as if she were a child, (Gabrielle hated when she did that growing up), and sashayed from the room.

Gabrielle stuck a tongue out at her sister's retreating back before catching herself and silently berating that she was acting the child that her sister still saw her as. After careful consideration, Gabrielle decided to try and follow her sister's recommendation as he rarely conformed to any logical expectations.

* * *

Harry's first week was nothing more than hours and hours of bed rest and a never ending supply of vile tasting potions for which he never failed to amuse Gabrielle with the variety of disgusted sounds he made and faces he pulled after downing each proffered vial. Secretly, he liked the response he got from her and played to it. He found her melodious chuckle reassuringly soothing. That and he liked the way her nose crinkled up and her eyes danced when she laughed

The second week is when the real work toward recovery began. Pain filled scar lessening procedures, grueling physical therapy and exhaustive beginning exercise regimens that his previously hard won physical prowess would have scoffed at prior to his injury.

The third week was when Harry took over his program and took physical training to an eventual extreme that Gabrielle would have thought physically impossible if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes and experienced it firsthand.

Harry started day fifteen with an hour of stretching exercises that went so far beyond those Gabrielle had prescribed, that she wondered how he managed to not reopen his barely healed wounds.

He followed that with a short five kilometer run to loosen up. Now when Harry says run, he doesn't mean jog as Gabrielle found out by foolishly choosing to join him.

RUN meant **RUN**

Harry started out at a brisk pace that had Gabrielle concerned until she realized he was being kind and gradually increased his pace at what seemed an inhuman rate. Within ten minutes she was running flat out to try and catch him, only her concern for his welfare giving her a fleeting burst of energy. At fifteen minutes he was no more than a dot in the distance as she faltered and pulled up gasping, hands on her knees as she fought a cramp in her side.

Harry returned to the south wing garden area, where he started his "run" from, to find an absolutely fuming half veela witch waiting worriedly.

His thirty minute run, (not bad time considering), was followed by a forty minute lecture in fluid French regarding his unthinking stupidity and disregard for his health, let alone his disrespect for the hard work his personal healer had contributed.

At least that was the gist of it.

Gabrielle's actual lecture had been filled with many a colorful expressions laced with profanity. Her rant continued until Harry politely interjected, (also in fluid French), that he agreed with her having described him as an "impulsive ass", but took offence at her comparing his parentage as that of "the obscene couplings of a mountain troll and a niffler".

The look on Gabrielle's face when she suddenly realized that he had understood ever single insult and curse word, she had threw out at his expense, was priceless.

Gabrielle's initial gapping expression followed by a deep blush of absolute mortification had Harry rolling on the ground, howling in laughter.

With an imperious sniff and an irate toss of her platinum locks, Gabrielle stormed off trying to salvage the last vestiges of her humility.

Brown eyes had watched the interaction with initial concern followed by near alarm when it became obvious that, in his own way, Harry was flirting with his healer.

Taking the opportunity afforded by Gabrielle's abrupt departure, Ginny immediately seized upon an idea of her own. She splashed water in her face and let it dribble down the front of her tank top and set off at a dead run the long way around the mansion, coming to a slowed stop when she as within a few feet of a still chuckling Harry Potter.

Harry Potter had just managed to pull himself up from the south lawn when Ginny Weasley skidded to a halt next to him, panting and apparently sweating profusely from her labor.

Harry doubted she was as overheated as she was want to appear, but made no comment as he was cautiously interested in what the younger witch was up to.

"What's f-funny?" Ginny panted off handily as she made to stretch her legs out.

Harry shifted his gaze toward the patio door Gabrielle had left by, hardly fooled by Ginny's pretense of not knowing Gabrielle had just left.

"French Lessons" he answered with a vague chuckle.

"How'd you do?" Ginny asked casually as she dropped to the ground and spread her legs slowly out in almost taunting fashion.

She smirked to herself when she discretely caught Harry checking out her thighs.

Despite everything, he was still a male of the species, after all.

"I learned some new swear words." Harry answered, pretending not to notice the predatory gleam in her eye that the thought of he and Gabrielle fighting elicited.

"Working out?" Harry asked belaying the obvious. Not the obviousness that she was attempting to give him the impression that she had been doing just that, but that she wanted him to believe she had and hadn't been spying from the kitchen window only moments ago.

"Have to stay in shape, Quidditch you know." Ginny returned, grabbing her toes and pulling herself far enough forward to give him an ample view of her cleavage from where he stood over her.

Harry had to struggle to keep from laughing at her obvious attempts to distract him.

_Two can play at this._

"Do you only jog?" he asked with hopeful interest.

"Course not. I mix in swimming for cardio, weight training for strengthening- the works."

Ginny demurred rising to her feet and doing side turns that gave a slight sway to her chest on each rotation.

"Fancy a workout tomorrow?" Harry asked rather sheepishly.

"Sure." Ginny readily agreed, before adding coyly, "If it's alright with Gabrielle? I wouldn't want to do anything without you're healer's approval."

"Excellent then, as she'll undoubtedly want to join us." Harry pounced on her offer. He chose to ignore the comical way that her smile faltered and became an all out frown at the mention of Gabrielle's inclusion.

He further added: "Tomorrow then, 6am,…oh, and bring along a bathing suit, something comfortable for a cool down after our **run**."

That said, Harry jogged off before she could recant her offer to accompany him during his morning workout.

Six a.m. came all too soon, finding two witches scantily clad in the most revealing exercise outfits to be had. Both eyed each other like a pair of strange cats in a small room.

_They must have spent their afternoons picking thru every fitness boutique in London to come up with those two outfits_? Harry mused in silent mirth as he approached Gabrielle and two were eyeing each other warily as they stretched each trying to one up the other.

Harry clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "Fine day for it." he barked cheerfully, pretending not to notice the chill morning breeze nor the effect it had on the two women's chests.

"It's bloody freezing." Ginny growled incredulously.

"I find it refreshing" Gabrielle snorted her disagreement, earning a glare from the red headed witch.

"Ah, well… we'll warm up soon enough" Harry reassured. "What say five times around and last one in the lake's a smelly troll!" Harry challenged cheerfully as he took off at a dead run without a backward glance.

"Five laps?" Gabrielle asked with a stunned expression.

"Must be almost ten kilometers?" her rival added aghast at what they'd managed to get themselves into.

"How about three laps and the last one to the lake has to wear a t-shirt over her top?" Gabrielle challenged with a knowing smirk.

Ginny smiled brilliantly. "You're on!" that said, she took off seizing the advantage.

Their ploy might have had its intended results but for one thing-Harry. He lapped them twice during their all out sprint to be the first to the lake.

By the time the two winded competitors dragged themselves to the lake, it was already too late to catch him up. They arrived to find Harry cutting through the water like a merman. Each stroke of his powerful arms cut thru the frigid waters like a razor. His kicking legs propelled him forward so fast that he looked more machine than human.

The two stood gaping, awestruck as Harry neared the shoreline, sending water lapping at their feet.

Harry pulled himself out of the water, disappointing the two as he stood up, revealing a heavy life vest that completely covered his torso.

Ginny recovered first to tease. "Aren't you a bit old to need a floater?"

"Floater?" Harry questioned ambiguously with a smirk. He proceeded to unfasten the Velcro holding his vest together.

He pulled off the vest sending his chest muscles rippling with the effort and water dripping down lazily over his hard packed abdominal muscles.

Both women gaped stupidly, ogling ever nuance of his well honed physique enhanced by a watery glow.

Harry handed his vest to Ginny, snorting a laugh as she nearly toppled into the shoreline from the unexpected weight of it.

"I- It must weigh ten kilos?" She gasped, struggling to bear the weight single handed.

"Nearer fifteen." Harry corrected her as he walked off toward the manor, calling over his shoulder. "It's a trainer. You can have it if you like? I prefer one a bit heavier myself, but I didn't want to risk it the first few days out."

Both women shared a stymied look that evaporated into an uncertain frown when Harry further added.

"The lake water's a bit cool though." He intimated, adding coyly.. " Pity the boiler's been acting up, perhaps we could share before all the hot water's used up?" he called out innocently as he headed for the shower.

The two stared dumbfounded at each other.

"H-He's not serious, is he?" Ginny chirruped, half heartedly excited by the prospect.

"Non- he iz bluffing." Gabrielle scoffed incredulously. "He is still as shy as he was when he was a student."

"Still…?" Ginny questioned as she took a half step toward the manor. "Can we afford to chance it?"

Gabrielle cocked a platinum eyebrow at that. "I'm game if you are?"

"Let's go!" Ginny shrieked as she flew toward the manor.

The two witches skidded to a halt outside Harry's master bath. Both disappointedly arrived just as Harry vacated the door with a towel around his waist and another slung over his shoulder.

"Don't bother. The water's bloody freezing." He intimated, shuddering as if chilled. "I could barely stand it long enough to give myself a quick once over.

He padded past the two gapping witches, seemingly oblivious to the effect his half naked body was having on them as he toweled his raven locks dry whistling merrily.

Just as he stepped into his bedroom he pulled away the towel covering his lower half and tossed it aside casually as he closed his bedroom door with the heel of his foot, giving the two a brief glimpse of his well toned behind.

"M-Mon dui!" Gabrielle gasped grabbing the wall to support her weakening legs.

"Bloody tease!" Ginny muttered in stunned disbelief, before she turned her attention to her competitor for Harry's affections.

"Shy school boy, eh?" She mocked.

Gabrielle nodded her head vacantly. "He m-must be feeling b-better?"

"That you're professional diagnosis?" she scoffed.

Gabrielle sniffed disdainfully "Perhaps, I must first give him a thorough examination before I make my final prognosis."

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she challenged, "Tomorrow at six?"

"May the best witch win?" Gabrielle accepted.


	14. Chapter 14: Lily Potter

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Characters.

**Chapter Fourteen: Lily Potter**

The daily workouts increased in their intensity, not just the workouts themselves, but the ongoing competition between the two witches as they struggled to secure a place in his heart.

_Struggle_ being the key word.

Finally after a three weeks, for which both witches could at least claim being in the absolute best shape of their young lives, the voice of reason came calling in the form of a very amused pair of witches with more on their agenda then the ongoing "Harry War", as the rest of the family was secretly referring to it.

Harry was sitting quietly in the south patio garden, sipping at a glass of lemonade, while enjoying the light breeze of the afternoon when Fleur and Hermione came calling. He suspected their coming arrival long before they themselves probably even realized that they were going to come at all. He knew it would only be a matter of time before one or both would be coming to advocate in behalf of either their sister or sister in-law who had taken it upon themselves to make complete fools of themselves; vying for his affections. He could have easily dodged their attempt, but thought better of it, deciding it would come eventually, like it or not, so thought it best to get it over with.

What he hadn't decided was if he was going to be totally candid with them, or just outright lie to spare their feelings.

At seeing the grim set of their determined faces he decided on the truth, at least in part,… they deserved that much from him. Some things, however, would need to remain unspoken for the time being.

He rose and greeted them warmly with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. He was genuinely glad to see them, despite knowing their real motive for calling.

"It's good to see you both. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me in my isolation."

Fleur quirked an amused eyebrow, but it was Hermione that took the lead.

"Isolation,… eh? Most men would consider themselves blessed to be object of so much attention from two very attractive witches?"

Harry's eyebrows came together in a puzzled expression. "Beg pardon?" he returned innocently.

"You're driving them spare and you know it." Hermione shot back in exasperation, not buying into his feigned innocence.

"Driving, no,… I'm not allowed to drive yet." he returned vaguely, pretending to not understand the vein of her accusation.

"You ave become quite an actor,'Arry." Fleur complimented with a knowing look.

"As have you, considering you can speak the King's English with better pronunciation that most I'd wager." he returned in kind.

"Touché" Fleur nodded her head in acknowledgement, both grinning widely at their casual disclosure.

Hermione shot them both a glare. "I suppose you've both been taking the mickey out on me all this time?'

"Yes" they said simultaneously, before all three fell into laughter.

Once they settled into a comfortable chuckle, Hermione continued. "Seriously, what exactly are you up to with your two erstwhile _maids in waiting_?"

Harry took his time answering, pouring each a glass of lemonade from the glass pitcher on the garden table they sat around.

"Not sure, really." he answered honestly. "I'm allowing them to make fools of themselves, up to a point.." at seeing Hermione lean in he held up a hand forestalling her rebuttal. "That point being that both could do with a lesson in humility. You have to admit yourselves that things have always come a bit easy to Ginny. She was always budding beauty, not to mention a natural flyer, intelligent, vivacious and so on and so on. She had boys falling all over themselves at Hogwarts…."

"She was only ever interested in you and you know it." Hermione interrupted. "Now you're taking advantage of her because of it!" Hermione scathed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Puh-lease. Ginny never wanted for dates before or after I was in the picture."

Hermione made to argue, but he pressed his point.

"Ginny was infatuated with the notion of me. Not Harry, but the thrice damned 'boy who lived'. She already had a crush on the supposed legend of me before she ever even met me. I'll admit that I share in the blame for that if you consider my saving her from the "Chamber of Secrets" as only an attention seeking gesture, which we both know it wasn't. It could have been anyone down there and I still would have gone and you know it, but after,… you saw how she was around me. I was the proverbial _white knight_ and she the damsel in _distress_. She needs to grow up a little, 'Mione, and maybe so do you?" he ventured.

Hermione shot him a scandalized look. "What do you mean, I need to grow up?" she hissed in return.

"Tell me that you- yourself, haven't been throwing Ginny at me from day one, eh? Was that because you thought we truly belonged together, or was that to assuage your own quilt over being too afraid to chose me over Ron?"

Hermione sat gapping with a crimson blush suffusing her cheeks. Her mouth working silently as she tried to organize her thoughts enough to refute his claim, but nothing came out, so Harry continued undaunted.

"Don't think I don't know how terrible a time Ginny had getting over me after I left?" he returned sarcastically.

"Did she wait a week out of respect, or did she start dating right off to try and fill the lonely void in her heart? I know she was already attached at the hip with Collin by the end of that summer and I know she practically set the record for most broom cupboards explored in a single year that final year. I heard that you and Ron claimed the title though!"

Hermione's mouth hit the floor at that, but she was too mortified to refute his claim, not that she had a leg to stand on. Harry had been well informed of his estranged friend's 'activities' their last year at school.

Harry smirked at Hermione's shocked expression.

"Harry?" Fleur said his name in a scolding tone.

He cocked an eyebrow at Fleur and gave her his opinion as well. "Gabrielle's no different than Ginny in many respects: She's intelligent, stunningly beautiful and successful. She's also a bit **too** full of herself- must be the veela blood?" he mocked with less than humor in his voice.

Fleur narrowed her eyes warningly at that, but allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

"She also had the whole 'boy who lived' fan club thing going . To which I inadvertently took to new heights by my rescuing of her during our second task of the Tri-Wizard's Tournament. Again, it could have been anyone and I would have done the same, it just happened to be her. You've been pitching her at me, same as Hermione has been with Ginny, over the past many years. While I'm at it, why in the world does Gabby think she can use 'veela allure' on me? It doesn't work, but she keeps trying every now and again. It was amusing at first, but now it's getting downright irritating, if not outright demeaning." Harry vented.

"Perhaps if she knew that you were empathic she would be more inclined to maintain respectable boundaries?"' Fleur snapped right back defending her sister and laying their trump card on the table prematurely.

Harry's face darkened like a storm cloud. "Where would you possibly get the idiotic notion that I'm empathic?" he scoffed.

Fleur held his eyes stoically, but inside she was trembling with the dread fear that he would reject her once he knew what she'd done.

Fleur told Harry what happened when he was unconscious in the infirmary. She told him how she had used her empathic abilities to try and soothe his troubled dreams and unwittingly discovered his empathic talents.

When Fleur finished, Harry just stared at her for the longest time with the most unreadable expression on his face. In desperation, Fleur reached out with an empathic probe to try and get some sense of what he was feeling.

"Don't!" Harry barked recoiling away to put some distance between them as his occulomency shields shot up like a steel wall.

It happened so abruptly and with such force that Fleur almost screamed in fear.

"It's alright, Harry." Hermione chimed in, trying to diffuse the situation. "We both know you would never abuse your talents with us, we were just concerned about ,..well, G-Ginny and Gabrielle?" Hermione's voice falter as Harry turned angry eyes in her direction.

"You don't know what you're talking about." hI growled angrily.

"I-it doesn't change who you are, Harry. It doesn't change how we feel about you." Hermione tried to encourage his acceptance so that he would open himself up to them.

Harry began to chuckle. His chuckles soon became full throated howls of laughter that never reached his eyes. His green eyes remained distant and glassy.

Both women began to question his sanity at length.

"T-That's what you w-worry about? Y-You think I'm taking advantage of what Gabrielle and G-Ginny feel for m-me? I wish I c-could feel what they feel. The only thing I can sense is….." Harry's voice choked off, fighting the sob that threatened to escape his throat.

It was heart rending for them to see him like this. Hermione hadn't witnessed such a display of grief from Harry since the night Sirius fell thru the Veil in the Dept. of Mysteries _That was terrible, but this…_

For Fleur this was the first and only time she had ever saw Harry break down. She hoped it was the last. To see a man like Harry fighting not to lose control of his emotions was truly a humbling experience.

As quickly as it began, Harry regained control of himself and with a disgusted growl he scrubbed the moisture that threatened at the corner of his eyes. He then apologized to the two witches for his display of weakness.

_He apologized, actually apologized!_

The two shared a stunned incredulous look with each other. It was shocking that he would actually think it a weakness that he need apologize for.

Before either could begin to reassure him that he had nothing to apologize for, Harry explained his reaction.

"I guess the stress is getting to me more than I thought." he began, starring at the ground with unseeing eyes as he continued to explain vacantly.

"I-It's difficult k-knowing and feeling what I do and not be able to do a single thing about it. Before I was at least able to try, though no matter how many wrongs I righted, no matter how many victims I avenged,… it barely made a difference." Harry tried to make them understand, but it only seemed to puzzle the two more.

"Harry,… how can you possibly think that all those criminals you tracked down and brought to justice didn't make a difference. It made a world of difference." Fleur defended, with Hermione nodding her agreement.

Harry chuckled under his breath and echoed… "A world of difference? No, it never even scratched the surface."

At seeing their incredulous looks, he decided they'd only understand if they could experience what he was talking about first hand.

"I guess there's nothing for it as I know that neither of you will let this go until you've experienced it for yourselves. I warn you, it…it isn't going to be pleasant. You won't thank me for this. It will end up being just one more reason not to associate with me. I truly wish there was another way?" he said in a warning tone of regret and resignation.

Before either could utter a word of protest; Harry grabbed a hand of each witch in his own and let his _occulomency_ shields fall.

Hermione shrieked in despair and Fleur whimpered as their minds filled with images of pain and suffering:

_A starving child was running terror stricken through the wilderness in a vain attempt to try and flee his parent's murderers. _

_A terrified woman was screaming for help as two men brutalized and raped her in some desolate alleyway._

Hundreds of images poured through their minds all occurring within moments of each other in different locations all over the world.

Each image became more and more disturbing as Harry used his "_gift_",(as they had termed it_),_ to guide them along the path to the horrific conclusion that occupied his every unguarded thought.

_A wizard being tortured by shrouded figures chanting to some heathen God of darkness in a bizarre ritual._

_Wraiths dragging hapless victims into the night to feed the insatiable hunger of something so foul that they recoiled in horror at the slightest brush of it against their already reeling senses._

_The hundreds of images of pain, fear and hopelessness all combined, were as nothing compared to that last nightmare image._

Harry let go their trembling hands.

Fleur fainted dead away, (her empathic senses in overload), and Hermione burst into tears of despair.

"W-What was t-that?" she sobbed horrified. "All those images a-and that t-thing at the end? **What was it?!" **She shrieked out her terror, rousing Fleur next to her.

Harry sipped at his lemonade and contemplated the two shaken women with unbelievable calm in the face of what they'd just experienced. He waited patiently for Fleur to wake of her own accord and by the look of things; Hermione was in no shape to be going on yet either. Once he was certain that Fleur had entirely regained her wits, he answered.

"That is the **gift **you claim I possess. That is what you fear that I use to try and manipulate Gabby and Ginny." He answered sarcastically.

"That is the full extent of my empathic abilities-**THAT !**" he spat out in utter revulsion.

"That is all I can sense. Not love, nor joy. I cannot feel a father's pride in holding his child for the first time, something I fear I will never experience firsthand, let alone envy by proxy. I cannot experience through the eyes of another the simple joy derived from taking pleasure in a morning sunrise or sense their wonder at the heady aroma of a meadow of wildflowers as other empaths can. My ability allows for one thing and one thing only.

I SENSE EVIL.

Every shriek and every cry of denial in the face of mind numbing torment are mine to despair over. Where once I could travel to them in a blink of an eye to try and render assistance, now I can only bear witness to their misery because they deserve at least that much."

Fleur 's beautiful face was marred by the pain she felt as she wept silently in her chair.

Ever the logical one, Hermione tried to affect some semblance of damage control.

"How did this happen?" She asked trying to gain some perspective. She knew that he wasn't born with it as other empaths were, he would have told her and Ron at the least. Not to mention what they could have accomplished during the horcrux hunt? They could have finished that in a week if Harry had this ability back then.

"It started soon after the night of the Final Battle." He returned pointedly circumventing her question.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That answers my second question of when, but how did it happen?" She pressed, sensing that he was hiding something from her.

"What difference does it make? It's part of me now and I'm stuck with it." he snapped back bitterly.

"It might make all the difference, Harry. How-did-it-happen?" she reiterated with infuriating patience.

Knowing she wouldn't let this go, he sighed dejectedly and told them about the night of the Final Battle.

"I snuck out of the castle that night to go and confront Voldemort after he made that ultimatum; _If you all didn't turn me over within an hour, he'd kill the lot of you_." Harry paused uncertainly.

"I remember" Hermione nodded. "What happened that night? What really happened, Harry?"

"I… died."

"You what?" Fleur asked puzzled, thinking she'd misheard him, but Hermione's eyes turned glassy as she voiced her suspicions.

"You were the last h-horcrux, your scar I mean…?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, after Ravenclaw's diadem was destroyed, it just sort of came to me, the scar, my connection to Voldemort, being a parselmouth… it just all fit together in one sickening moment of clarity. So I told Neville that no matter what, he needed to get close to Voldie so that he could kill his snake Nagini, after that Voldie would be mortal again. I went out to the woods to find him and so I did. Voldie did his dialog thing: "I'm the most powerful wizard in the world-blah-blah-blah",… and then he shot a _killing curse_ at me and I let it hit. "

Ignoring their startled gasps he continued his tale.

"I woke up in a brilliant white train depot much like King's Cross. Dumbledore was there and so was what was left of Tom Riddle, not Voldemort-that's the evil that took him over, but Riddle, or at least what was left of his humanity- it wasn't much.

"A train station?" Hermione questioned.

"It wasn't really a train station per say, it was more of a transitional place between worlds. It was neither heaven, nor hell, neither alive, nor dead, but a place in between. Dumbledore asked me what I wanted, if I wanted to go on to the next great adventure or if I intended to come back and see it thru. The choice was mine. I asked if I could see my parents and Sirius, to talk things over, get some advice, but he intimated that it wasn't allowed as they'd already passed over, but he had remained behind knowing that this moment would arrive. He played me perfectly, the old manipulator. He made sure to point out that Voldemort could still win, mortal or no, as I was the only one prophesized to be able to defeat him. He made a mistake though."

"W-What mistake?" Hermione haltingly asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Harry's eyes became glassy, lifeless as he answered in a hollow monotone that chilled their bones.

"He said it's was my destiny. That it's why my parents had me. It's what my mother died for. After he'd said that, I knew then what I wanted. It was an easy decision once I knew where I ultimately stood in things. It made most of my decisions after that much easier really. My parents had me to fulfill the prophecy. I was created to become a weapon against Voldemort. "

He ignored their startled gasps and continued his story. "It's easy to make decisions about the future when one knows one's place in things. I was made to be a weapon. My mother sacrificed herself so that I grow and learn what I was meant to become: a weapon. The only thing I was missing was a name?"

Fleur rounded incredulously on him as asked waspishly. "What do you mean, all you were missing was a name?"

"A name for the weapon I was to become, of course. I mean; you call a wand a wand, a sword a sword. I suppose I should be grateful in that I got more of a title out of it." Harry chuckled darkly.

"Mrs. Weasley coined the term, 'The Hand of Death', and so I am."

Harry slumped dejectedly back into his chair, nursing his glass of lemonade in quiet contemplation, oblivious to the shocked expressions on his friend's faces.

It was Hermione, who broke their stunned stalemate and accused… "You said that you would never speak about yourself that way again, you promised me?"

Harry immediately retorted. "And I've kept my promise. I'm not belittling myself, merely acknowledging a title that's been given me. You can hardly blame a sword for being a weapon, it just is. Whether it's used for evil or good is entirely up to the hand that wields it. It's most probably the truest difference between me and Voldemort? We had similar upbringings and opportunities. Only, Voldemort chose a dark path, one of greed and self indulgence. I chose instead a lighter path. It's all just a matter of semantics, really." he ventured airily.

Hermione and Fleur shared a shaken expression. Neither had ever considered that Lily Potter may have had more than a mother's love as her motive for saving her child. Still, it was a noble sentiment, ie... the sacrificing of oneself with the foreknowledge that the child, her child, would grow to one day conquer an evil that would ultimately destroy their world if left unchecked, but still… the fact that it was for other than just the child alone that the mother sacrificed her life? Even if it was for both Harry and the world that she acted,… it still left a bitter aftertaste.

Could this be the true reason that Harry would not consciously seek out his mother when he used the Deathly Hallows Stone?

Despite her misgivings on how Harry might react, she had to know. There seemed to be something very important to all of this. Knowing Harry as she did, there was probably something very important at stake. Something Voldemort important,… or worse.

With a nod, she cued Fleur that it was time.

Hesitantly, Fleur told Harry what happened the night in the infirmary when she placed the sword in his hand. He listened to her with stoic resolve, until…

"Your m-mother, Harry,… she came to me. She begs that you….."

Harry's raised a hand in warning, halting her unspoken plea in his mother's behalf.

"Don't." he demanded with a dangerous edge to his tone.

"B-But Harry, you can't believe that your mum was thinking of you at least in part when she sacrificed her…?"

"**It does not matter what I believe.**" He snapped vehemently, using more volume than he was want to do. "I will not see her, not now, not ever." he shot back with a strained finality that was terse in tone, but there was something almost despairing in his eyes that caught Hermione's breath, further puzzling her.

After a moment he apologized. "I'm sorry for my tone, you both deserve far better. I know what you've discovered today is not exactly a pleasant thing by any stretch of the imagining, but it is what it is. I could have lied and spared your feelings, but I felt you both deserve the truth, no matter how unpleasant said truth might be."

Harry paused to consider his next words and after a brief internal struggle he seemed to resolve himself to his present course.

"Let me summarize; my empathic abilities only allow me to track dark activity. I cannot take advantage of Ginny or Gabby and would not do so even if I had the ability. My magical core was damaged, but I do still maintain some rudimentary magical abilities such as; directed empathy, _parselmouth_ and _occulomency _shields. I can't be certain, but I believe this is as it was meant to be." This elicited a gasp of denial from them, but he continued unabated.

"I believe in fate or destiny or the Great Father's will, whatever you'd like to call it, but it all seems to make rather obvious sense, for without the loss of the majority of my magical powers, I would have never had to turn to the Deathly Hallows to augment my waning skills. I think it less than ironic and more in keeping with destiny that it is those self same Hallows which are needed now more than ever." Harry paused seeing that they were struggling to understand what he was trying to impart to them.

"Let me clarify?" he offered patiently. "I lost most of my magical powers, but I can still track dark activity and with my _occulomency_ shield still in place, I can do so without going mad, because I surely would if I was unable to keep from sensing every cruelty in the world, 24/7.

_Parselmouth _allows me the ability to maintain a relationship that provides me a means of travel. That particular means is by the grace of a dear friend, Sara.

The Hallows provide me a way and a means to combat a particular evil that is besieging our island as we speak. That particular evil I wish **not** to name, but let me say this; it is far worse than anything we have ever faced in our history before. We are at a turning point in our history and that point balances on the razor edge of the sword that I carry which I intentionally imbued with the Hallows.

Someone has done something monstrous. I am convinced that it was initially undertaken for incredibly stupid and selfish reasons, reasons that were based on quilt and grief, but a stupid undertaking none the less. As with most things; all evil needs to gain a foothold is for one person to do something ill conceived and there you go. I know what I'm saying now is puzzling to you and that is by intention on my part. Complete disclosure is not necessary to be going on with and certainly won't help you sleep better at night. Believe me when I say that in this case…. Ignorance is bliss.

All of this stems from the Henderson case that I was originally assigned. Again I do not think it coincidence, but destiny. The person that has unleashed this evil into our world is the same misguided person that is responsible for murdering that poor family. By doing so, he not only damned himself, but may well have sealed all our fates along with him.

I intend to finish what I started by solving the Henderson case. It shall be my last and hopefully completed work as a Magical Knight. On that day I hope to change a great many mistakes that I have made. To do so I must remain focused and seeing my mother would negate my resolve and many might suffer for it.

I have no choice. She knows this. They all do, but my mum cannot accept it and I have no words that will ease her fears at present. When I'm stronger and my course is set, I will use the Hallows Stone and summon my family to make peace with them, my mum included, but,... it is not yet that time."

Fleur's head shot up at that. "You said that before… when you left. What does it mean?" she questioned in alarm.

Hermione was already troubled by the way Harry was talking. Fleur's anxious voice had her stomach clutching in sudden dread.

Harry smiled wanly at his two friends.

"It means that I have many regrets for which I intend to make amends. I just need _**time**__._"

"Time? Time for what?" Hermione asked in growing concern.

"More Time, of course." He returned vaguely, but his eyes twinkled madly with hidden knowledge.

Something was wrong, she was missing something here. She could tell Fleur was growing more anxious by the moment and wondered if it was something she empathically sensing from Harry or just the vein of his conversation or everything put together. Suddenly something else occurred to her.

_If Harry's magical core was destroyed, how did he cancel his glamour charm at the hospital when he visited after she'd delivered little Harry? How did he vanish from the hospital after visiting? How…. Wait,…. Where's the 'death stick', the wand of destiny?!_

"H-Harry," Hermione leaned forward and nervously tucked a stray tuft of hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit he remembered well.

"If the sword hilt is wound with the fabric of the invisibility cloak and the soul stone is in the pommel, what did you do with the death stick?"

Harry smiled brightly at her. "Took you long enough to catch on, 'Mione. Not up to your usual standards for deductive reasoning. I suppose lack of sleep with a newborn explains it? "

Hermione scowled at that, but ventured a guess. "It's in the sword isn't it?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Can't fight effectively with a sword and wield magic with it at the same time, that's why most knights use a sword with their dominant hand. It acts as both an offensive and defensive weapon. I've seen many a skilled knight block some serious curses with their sword. We learn to cast accurately with our non-dominant hand, makes for more effective and well balanced fighting skills, a sort of two pronged attack."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She hated it when he was being facetious like he was now, and_ well he knew it._

"Zen where iz ze wand of destiny?" Fleur interjected before Hermione lost her patience.

Harry quirked a half smile, his eyes twinkled like fairy lights. "Somewhere secret- Somewhere safe."

Hermione rolled her eyes," Borrowing from the "Lord of the Rings", I see. I suppose you fancy yourself as Gandalf the Grey?"

Harry shrugged and chuckled. "You have to admit there are certain similarities, though in my opinion, Dumbledore reminded me more of Gandalf what with the beard and hat."

" Arry…?" Fleur began in exasperation, but Hermione stalled her with a light squeeze on her friend's arm.

"Don't bother. He's enjoying himself too much and he won't give you a straight answer anyway when he's like this."

Fleur pouted prettily, but offered no retort.

Hermione tried a new tact, though she thought it a pointless undertaking.

"You, yourself acknowledge that your core is damaged, but still you can do magic, at least to some extent?"

"Can I?" Harry returned playfully.

Hermione nodded, ignoring his infuriating grin. "Ginny saw you disappear at the hospital."

Harry smirked." Invisibility cloak, remember?"

Hermione continued undaunted, having expected that answer.

"You canceled a _glamour charm_ in front of me, remember?" she mocked in return, almost crowing in triumph.

"The spell canceled by the use of a code word. I only waved my hand for theatrical effect." Harry surmised, still smiling smugly.

Hermione played her trump card. "The spell you used to grant little Harry the knight's gift of _perseverance_? That was magic at its purest form and takes an inordinate amount of magical power or do you deny that too?"

Harry rolled his eyes incredulously. "Certainly not, that's why I chose Atlantean spell form. It draws on the ambient magic within the near vicinity. Couldn't you feel the magic swirling around you?"

Hermione nodded with a puzzled expression.

"That was because the spell took the energy from the surrounding area, yours Ron's and Ginny's energy. I was merely the foci. That's why I gave him only your own experiences as a guide for him to draw on. I had no power to neither facilitate nor wish to give him any of my own experiences." he explained.

Hermione scowled bitterly. "You cheated him, your own Godson."

**WHAM**

Harry slapped his palm against the top of the table with such force that it frightened the two witches who pulled back with a gasp.

"I did nothing of the sort, and…. He-is-not-my-Godson. I did not promise that. I cannot promise that." he growled angrily.

Hermione stared wide eyed at her friend, realizing this was the dangerous Harry that few ever saw and those who brought on such anger seldom lived to regret it. Frightened as she was, she knew he would never harm her in any fashion, quite the contrary; he would protect her and Fleur with his dying breath.

"Y-You agreed." she reminded him.

Harry nodded. "I accepted that you wanted me as Godfather, I never actually agreed to assume that role." he clarified airily.

Hermione frowned and snapped back that. "What's happened to you? The Harry Potter I knew would never shirk such a sacred responsibility. Not if he'd lost his magic. Not if he lost both arms!"

Harry shot her a withering glare. "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that I'm doing the best I can. That there's more at stake than just one child's future, even if it's yours and Ron's child?"

Seeing her still caustic, but puzzled expression infuriated him to the point of recklessness.

"Merlin's Balls! Do I need to spell it out for you? I can't be a Godfather to Harry. I can't in all good conscious start a romantic relationship with anyone. I can't rekindle any kind of amenable relationship with the Weasleys',… whether or not I might want to, I can't. There's no point to any of it since in all likelihood I'll not survive and if by some miracle I do, then I intend to see that none of this misery ever happens in the first place!"

Hermione and Fleur gapped at him, not in horror as he would have expected considering the ill news he'd just dropped on them, but in a strange incredulous sort of disbelief.

"What?" he asked warily. Fleur and Hermione shared a look that clearly said; _should we toss a coin to see who gets first dibs? _

Fleur took the initiative. "Harry,… apparently you think this bit of tragic revelation is something out of the ordinary?"

Hermione snorted at that, causing Harry to scowl. Fleur chuckled at their two reactions and continued.

"Since when had it ever been entirely safe to be around Harry Potter? You draw trouble like a hippogriff draws flies. As to your supposed "impending doom"," Fleur made dramatic quotation marks in the air that brought a laugh from Hermione's direction.

"You're a Magical Knight and as such your life is always on the line, now no more than ever." Seeing that Harry was going to interrupt she shushed him and continued.

"This is going to shock you my naive young friend, but we all think you're worth the risk. In fact, we don't even see that there is any negligible risk being around you in the first place?"

Harry grimaced at that. "How can you possibly sit here and spout such utter nonsense? Being around me is a death sentence. Look at what happened at the Burrow? The moment I got involved the place became a killing field. Nothing's left but an accursed smoking ruin." he refuted.

Fleur raised an amused eyebrow to her counterpart, indicating she should take over now.

"I hate it when you do that. It's sort of creepy, like when the twins do that 'twin speak' thing.

"Too bad" Hermione gloated, causing Fleur to giggle. "Call it a 'witches speak' thing. Now- Harry,…?"

Harry rolled his eyes sensing the lecture that was sure to come.

"The Burrow was destroyed, yes." she began condescendingly, causing him to huff impatiently. "but look at us now? You've turned a loss into an incredible gain for the Weasleys. Look at them, living in this incredible estate you so generously provided for them. Sure they lost a few memories, some pictures and the like, but that's as nothing compared to the loss of life your intervention prevented. The entire family never so much as received a single scratch and not one knight's life was forfeited. Ah, ah…"

Hermione shook her finger in warning him not to begin the argument on the tip of his tongue.

"I know what you're going to say, and you're wrong, Harry, so very wrong. Yes, we lost Cedric and Dumbledore. With Cedric there was nothing you could have done and you know it. Somewhere deep inside you know it's true, Harry. Dumbledore sacrificed himself; you had nothing to do with his choice. He was in pain. He was dying. You didn't know that at the time, but it was true. Snape gave him peace. At an incredible cost to himself, he gave the headmaster peace. You, yourself, said Snape was the bravest man you ever knew. Would you, could you do the same for me or Fleur if we asked it of you?" she asked with profound gentleness.

Harry turned his stricken eyes away.

"Could you?" Fleur pressed from the other side.

"Y-You both k-know I c-couldn't" he stuttered out bitterly.

"But you would give your life to spare us without a thought?"

Seeing his anguished look she answered for him. "You would, we know you would."

"What's you p-point?' Harry asked somberly.

Hermione smiled softly and answered him. "Our point is a simple one that you have always chosen to overlook. There are many dangers in the world and because of that fact; the safest place has always proven to be in close proximity to you."

Harry snorted disdainfully at that.

Hermione continued undaunted. "How many times did you save mine and Ron's lives during our 'adventures', a dozen times? Two dozen times,… more?"

Hermione began to tick off her fingers. "You saved Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets and again at the Battle at the Ministry fifth year. You saved Gabrielle in the second task of the tri-wizard's. Mr. Weasley from Voldemort's snake and Sirius from the dementors. Your incredible shield saved Molly at the Battle of Hogwarts…."

"You forget that Fred died in that battle, along with Dennis, Remus, Tonks and more people that I can count." Harry interrupted, reminding her.

"Were they in close proximity to you when they died?" Hermione smiled triumphantly.

Harry shot her a disgusted look.

"I know it's a bit of a stretch..." she demurred, "but, it's none the less, true. That's just one such direct correlation. It doesn't take into account the countless thousands who are alive today because of the sacrifices you've made."

"It doesn't take into account the many that have lost their lives because of my actions either." he argued. "You can't weigh the good against the bad and say that as long as the scale tips one way over the other, that I've accomplished something worthwhile. Life carries a higher standard than that. How can you balance a handful of good deeds over a life lost?"

Fleur smile indulgently. "How can you not? In battle a general must sacrifice the lives of a few, if it will save the lives of many. A leader enacts a law that he knows will hurt, maybe even destroy a few lives, but the benefits to the whole make it a must if their society is to survive and flourish. A surgeon is faced with a crisis during a routine delivery of twins; he can either chose to save one child or try in vain knowing he'll lose them both,… which would you chose? Life is not fair, my friend. There are no perfect choices. There are no options that will save every life- all the time. We can only do the best we can with what we have and hope that God, in his infinite wisdom, will do the rest."

Harry silently contemplated her words. They weren't notions he hadn't considered before, but he had never had them presented in such an analogous fashion before.

_Had he really made a difference? Did the good he tried to do truly outweigh the bad that came as a result of his actions? _

Hermione leaned forward and interrupted his musings. "I know what you're thinking. I always have known what you were thinking when you get introspective like this,… and the answer is yes, Harry. The good you've done far outweighs any negative ramifications of your actions, vastly so." She reassured him.

"If you can't believe it, then I offer you further proof" Fleur interjected seeing his still uncertain look.

"If the great father of magic did not wish for you to fight evil, than why give you a gift that allows you to sense its presence?"

Harry smiled coolly at that, sending a shiver down her spine. "Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps the Dark One cursed me with it to try and drive me mad, or turn me to his own purposes?" he suggested.

"Then he failed miserably in that you have chosen to use said curse to track down and destroy the very evil that you believe he would turn you to." Fleur shook her head in resignation.

"No. The 'prince of lies' makes no gifts and certainly would do nothing that would interfere with his horrific schemes. Besides, I know it is a gift. If you don't believe me then draw your sword and call the spirits to you. Would your treasured dead lie to you? Would **she** lie to you?" Fleur challenged pointedly, referring to his mother.

Harry was shaken to his core, though half tempted to draw his sword and answer her challenge.

His fingers idly sought the hilt of the blade he carried even now.

Fleur noticed his temptation and pressed the advantage. "She waits for you, Harry. She has waited well over twenty years to talk with her child. Do not make her wait, not when it is within your power to bring her peace? Do not be so cruel."

Harry's head snapped back at that as if he were struck a mortal blow. _Had he been,... was he being cruel by not seeing his mother when he had the ability to do so? Was he really afraid she'd change his mind about what he was planning to do? Hadn't this conversation with Fleur and Hermione already begun to change his mind and opened his eyes to other possibilities? Maybe it was the idea itself that gave him true pause. What do you say to a woman who died so that you could live-thanks?! Maybe deep down where it matters the most- he was just a coward?_

"Don't over think it, Harry. Just do it. She's waited so long and so have you. Don't deny yourselves this gift." Hermione urged him.

"W-would you like to come? I-I mean is there anyone you'd like to see again?" he offered compassionately.

Fleur and Hermione shared a look. "I think this time is for you two alone." Hermione decided for the both of them.

Harry nodded as he pushed away from the table and walked a few paces away before drawing his sword.

Almost instantaneously he felt the veil between this world and the next begin to thin and a faint light winked distantly into view out of a milky landscape. There were others there, many such lights, but only the one came forward. The light grew stronger as it drew nearer, growing in intensity to the point he could nervously feel warmth that he hadn't felt in years, but still instinctively remembered. It was the warmth he felt when his mother had held him to her breast when he was just an infant. He hadn't realized until this moment how much he missed that feeling of being safe, secure and loved unconditionally.

Out of an ethereal landscape the light coalesced into the form of Lily Potter, his mother.

Her long red hair floated around her face as if it drifted on a faint breeze that only she could feel. She was young, the age she had no doubt been when she'd….

Harry was shocked by how much she reminded him of Ginny, or maybe subconsciously it was Ginny who reminded him of his mother?

Freckles dusted across his mother's pert nose. His green eyes looked back at him from a face filled with a mother's love and longing. She wore robes of the pale yellow that complimented her features beautifully. She didn't say anything; she seemed to be patiently waiting with a beatific smile on her lovely face. Her hands were clasped casually in front of her waist.

"M-Mum? ….Mum…I….." Harry choked up beginning to sob as he fell to his knees in front of her.

Despite his misery he was distantly aware of warm ethereal arms enfolding him, encircling him as he sobbed in anguish.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry, Mum,…so s-sorry. If ,… if you hadn't had m-me then …?"

"Then your father's and my death would have been meaningless, as would have been our lives." His mother cooed softly into his ear. Her breath, if one could call it that, was like the trilling of phoenix song on a gentle breeze. It calmed and reassured him.

"H-How can you even say that? W-Why did you even h-have me?" he moaned dejectedly.

"We had you because we loved each other so much that we wanted child to share that love. You are James' and my love in the flesh, Harry. You are the living symbol of everything that had meaning in our lives." she answered softly, her warm hands drifted thru his hair reassuringly.

"W-Was it even w-worth it, mum? Seeing what I've b-become…"

"Harry,…" His mother's voice grew more intense, though it still held its warmth and tenderness. "How can you say such a thing to me, your own mother? What you've become?! Harry, you are a Champion of the Light. A protector and guardian of all that is dear to your father and I, and billions of other just like us, both living and dead. No mother could be more proud of the man you've become." She chastised gently, willing his eyes up to meet hers.

"I loved you then, I love you now. There are so many who love you, Harry. More souls in your world and ours then you could possibly begin to fathom. I'm so proud of you, Harry, so very proud. No one could be more proud than I am. Though to hear your father and Sirius go on about it, you'd think they were the only one's directly responsible for the man you've become." she chuckled lightly at that.

Her laughter was like music to him.

"I-I try to be a good person and help others. Are you really proud of me?"

Unbeknownst to Harry, Hermione and Fleur were watching over his reunion with his mother with wet eyes. They couldn't hear or see Lily Potter, but it wasn't difficult to follow the track of Harry's conversation with his mother. It broke their hearts to hear Harry actually ask his mother if she regretted having him, let alone if she was actually proud of him. How could she not be proud of a son like Harry?

Things seemed to be going well at first, in retrospect, that should have been the first warning signal of impending doom when dealing with Harry Potter. Nothing ever came easily for Harry. There was always an element of danger in associating with Harry, but the rewards far outweighed any risk for everyone involved,… except Harry. Harry's whole life had been one long sacrifice.

Both witches watched as Harry's countenance hardened and his voice took on a hard foreboding edge to it as the conversation traveled toward his intentions and why he'd chosen the course he had.

"I don't want yours or anyone else's pity. It disgusts me!" Harry surged to his feet in anger.

"I make my own way now. The days of me being the Ministry's poster boy or dancing to Dumbledore's tune are long over… Don't give me that Champion of the Light- shite!"

Harry brushed his fingers through his hair in one of his classic tells of mounting frustration.

"I'm not a knight, not anymore. Gifts,.. what gifts? Is that what you call being a walking dark detector- a gift?! At least before I could try to do something to help, but now,... without my magic? I'm completely helpless to render any kind of assistance, let alone be able to travel to the victims in time to make a difference. It's an agony, mum. I hear their voices crying out in pain and fear and I can do nothing to help now. It's driving me insane and you have the audacity to call it a gift?!"

Harry paused listening to his mother before retorting vehemently.

"So I challenged the 'Dark One'? So bloody what? Before it was don't say Voldemort's name, call him 'You know who' or the 'Dark Lord', but never say the name."

"Woo-Wooo" Harry mockingly made a ghostly sound, wriggling his fingers sarcastically for effect.

"I don't give a rat's arse if its name is Satan or Lucifer or Larry the Cable Guy. God, demigod, fallen angel or no, if I ram three feet of steel up his arse before I kick off, he'll remember I was there! Maybe next time he'll think twice before he plagues the world with another Voldemort cause three feet of steel up the arse tends to leave an impression. Ha-Ha!" Harry laughed at his own joke, oblivious to the gasps of dread from his audience.

_It was true then. Harry had breached the portal of Hell and challenged the serpent himself! This was beyond courage, beyond fool hardy. This was madness, and both of his friends were afraid for him as they had never been so afraid before. Silently the two prayed that is mother would be able to make him see reason. To give him the hope that was quickly eluding him._

Lily Potter beatific face grew stern, her mouth set in a grim line. "It's not funny, Harry. You almost threw away your life, your very soul, on a fool's errand. You would have fallen into shadow and been lost to us for all time." Lily hissed angrily.

"So what? I'm already damned. There's blood on my hands that will never come clean. No matter what I do, I can't come close to balancing the scales in my favor. Maybe I could've gotten lucky and given his supreme darkness a royal pain in the arse!"

"Harry!" Lily's fierce voice cut him off, even her legendary patience was at an end.

"Fine" Harry grumblingly acquiesced. "I'll go with plan "B" instead."

" Plan B?" His mother's spirit asked worriedly. If she still had flesh it would have been raised in goose pimples. She knew her son and knew him well; Harry didn't do anything by halves. If challenging the dark one was plan "A", then Plan "B" was doubtlessly without less risk.

Harry's hand went to the place the chain around his neck went under his shirt.

"I found an unrestricted time turner in the Potter family vaults. I'll use it to go back and make things right. Cedric needn't have died, and Fred….." Harry surmised vacantly.

"N-Non!" Fleur gasped in terror. Hermione's trembling hands found hers seeking comfort where little was to be had.

Lily Potter frowned sadly at that. "Both lived brave lives and died proudly in the belief that, however brief, their short lives had meaning and their deaths doubly so. Would you take that from them? Would you do this knowing that the slightest change made in the fabric of time could unravel the future catastrophically?"

Harry stared blankly ahead, trying to fathom how his intention to right a few grievous wrongs could be a bad in the greater scheme of things.

"I-I don't understand, mum. How could preventing Fred's death turn out wrong, and Cedric,… he died for nothing? Pettigrew killed him and tossed him aside like he was some piece of garbage. How could preventing Cedric's death ever have been bad? "

Lily shook her head wearily, smiling wanly down at her son. "Cedric's death was perhaps one of the most important sacrifices that heralded the beginning of the second war against Voldemort. His death affected you profoundly. It hardened your resolve and taught you a valuable lesson that you carry with you to this very day; that war is senseless and cruel. Greed and hatred fuel the fires of war and ultimately it is the innocents, like Cedric, who pay the toll. War serves no purpose other than to propagate evil itself."

Lily paused to gauge whether her words had their desired effect, satisfied, she continued to explain further.

"Fredrick fought bravely upon the castle walls. His death, though tragic, was a sacrifice of love and heaven cherishes him for it. Fred pushed his brother Percy aside, thereby saving his brother. Percy took his brother's sacrifice to heart, and in his renewed efforts, he saved many more lives that night and those lives still others and others yet. If you were to save only Fred, you would do so at the expense of his brother, Percy, and dozens of others.

Though your intentions are honorable, they are naive and ill considered. You are smarter than this, despite your good heart." Lily scolded fondly.

Harry had the good grace to look suitably abashed, though he wasn't entirely convinced of the flaw in his planning.

"But there are so many things that I could make right? Why does the Great Father even allow such a thing to exist if it's contrary to destiny's plan? Was saving Sirius from the Dementor's kiss the wrong thing to do? His soul would have been lost for all time had they been successful."

Hermione gasped at that, brushing a tear from her eye. Many times she had considered this herself. Against altering the past as she was, she could not in all good conscious ever consider having saved Sirius from so horrible a fate as the wrong decision.

Lily smiled, having expected this same argument. "You did not merely save his life that night, but his soul,… and that would have been the true tragedy that ill fated night. All life is precious Harry, but a soul? A soul is beyond priceless. A soul saved is smiled upon in heaven. There can be no wrong lest such an act causes another soul lost in the process. When you talk of saving Cedric and Fred, you aren't talking about saving souls, but lives, Harry. All lives are relatively short in the greater scheme of things, but souls are eternal. Our fleshy lives are but a proving ground whereby we earn our place in the next great adventure. Both Fred and Cedric have done well and earned themselves the honor they now enjoy. If you do not believe me, then ask them yourself?" she challenged.

Harry shook his head dejectedly. "I-I believe you, mum. I,… I won't use the time turner."

Both women watching the exchange breathed a sigh of relief.

"What am I going to do, Mum?"

Lily's hand ghosted across her son's worried cheek. Both wished fervently that they could actually feel the other.

"You will do what you always do my son. You'll protect your friends and family as best you can. You'll find a way to win and in so doing you will save many lives, many futures."

"And if I lose?"

"The world as you know it will cease to exist. It will become shrouded in darkness and misery. So,… no pressure." Lily chuckled wryly.

"How can you laugh about something like that?" Harry grumbled.

"Because I know my son and would wager all that I am that you will find a way, you always do."

"I wish I had your faith."

Lily smile knowingly. "Not just mine, Harry. Many, many others believe as I do. The great father himself has faith in you. It is for this reason that I come to you now. The great father of all magic has seen your despair over your powerlessness to aide those who sorely need you. He feels your anguish over lives lost that you once might have saved, of wrongs that you would put right if you could. While the father might be stern as all fathers are want to be when they expect the best from their child; only their child does not put forth their best effort. In you, the father of all has never had reason to be displeased. You have always given selflessly without regard to your personal safety. Yours is a generous and noble soul, my son. No mother could be more proud than I. The Great father looks down upon you and smiles for he sees you as I do, as your friends see you- with open eyes and an open heart.

Allow the father to be generous, to put right what has been put wrong thru no fault of your own save caring, caring for your fellow man above all else, even your own heart. In this you have followed the Father's most sacred edict and he would have you continue.

Take my hands, Harry,… and be as you once were, as you were meant to be. If challenge the Dark One you must, than do so by destroying his designs, by righting wrongs, by giving hope where none is to be had. In this you will strike a greater victory in the eyes of heaven than were you to destroy the fallen one, himself."

Harry reached out with trembling hands and took his mothers waiting grasp. Initially gasping as he could feel her hands as if they were their original warm flesh.

Wonder turned to sudden shock. He fell to his knees and writhed in pain.

Fleur and Hermione watched in awe as an ethereal glow suffused Harry's body and grew in intensity until it was too blindingly bright to look upon.

They shielded their eyes and tried to go to him alarmed by his agonized moans, but they were held back as if by a wall of air, forced to bear witness but powerless to intervene as Harry writhed in agony.

Tense moments passed and finally the glow surrounding Harry's tormented body faded and winked from existence, leaving him strewn upon the lawn, unconscious.

A/N: Sorry...cliff hanger!


	15. Chapter 15: The sleeper awakes

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Fifteen: The Sleeper Awakes **

He heard the murmuring of distant voices, but was in no hurry to investigate further. Here it was warm and peaceful.

_Ah, sweet oblivion. _

There were no responsibilities here. No suffering and strife, just warmth and peace.

How long had he rested here; he neither knew or cared, only that he wanted it to never end. No monsters and madmen baying for his blood. No atrocities that he need witness to no affect other than to torment his fever haunted dreams. No loneliness and heartache for a life that never was and seemingly could never be.

Here there was no Ginny. No angelic face to haunt his dreams, just sweet memories of another time when hope was more than just a word. It was something to aspire to; a lifeline, a way station, an oasis,… but that desert was unending.

There would be no reprieve.

Someone was calling his name in the ether? Who it was or what they wanted, he neither knew nor cared. They could find someone else. Harry wasn't home.

His mother's face called out to him within his mind's eye. Did he really see her? It seemed a distant memory, a fading dream if it was ever more than that at all.

_Light's Champion! What a crock- Heaven's hit man maybe, but champion? If he was the best the light could do, than the light was in worse shape than it knew._

The only thing he was good for was raising the census in hell. When his time came, if it hadn't already, he would just be another #1 added to tally along with the rest of the damned.

_Where was he anyway? Was this some sort of limbo? Purgatory?_ Maybe he was dead and just planted in some God forsaken weed patch and this was all there really was; Just food for the worms.

He could live with that. _Live? Ha, get it,… Live with that! _Was he ever this witty in life?

Life, what life?

Hunted by a madman; forced to watch while friends and family were murdered before his eyes. Then in his moment of seeming triumph turned to rejection, abandonment,… and exile.

From exile he emerged the hunter. Eventually he became the madman and the cycle repeated itself.

What a waste.

The voices were back again, only this time they were more insistent, desperate…afraid. Calling out they were; calling out in pain and terror. Calling out to their God to save them, calling out to someone, to anyone.

Other voices there were, no,… not voices, but howls of blood lust and rage, shouts of challenge daring anyone to stand in their way as they tore through innocent flesh.

The voices of the innocent died away to murmurings of pain and grief that gave way to utter silence.

The silence spoke volumes in that it was a wail of despair that deafened the soul. Who was left to mourn their passing, who would avenge their destruction? Who would safeguard the future from the madness that claimed their lives?

The other guttural voices grew in violence and revelry, delighting in the horror they had reaped upon the innocent.

Who would dare oppose them? Whole cites would fall as wheat before the scythe. None could prevent the harvest of death that they would reap upon the innocent. They would sate their undying thirst in lakes of blood.

Civilization would fall and darkness would cover the land for eternity.

Their maddened howls grew in intensity as they came ever closer, more emboldened by their lack of opposition as they brazenly approached their prey. There was but one they feared. Only one who held the power to change what was to be. With his death the earthen realm would be theirs for the taking; a ripe plum upon which they would feed for a millennia.

The one drew them like a beacon against the encroaching darkness. He was a last bastion of hope that they would see utterly destroyed.

As he had once sensed them, they could too feel his presence in the world; it was anathema to them. His very presence brought hope and courage; characteristics they found appalling.

**He was down, easy prey,… and they were coming to ensure he never rose again.**

Harry's eyes snapped open, only they were no longer eyes in the true sense of the word. They were windows to the soul. Twin beacons of brilliant emerald fire that glowed with riotous vengeance. Not terrible to behold, but strangely comforting; at least they were to those who dared to look into the emerald fire burning within for therein was the best that man could aspire to be: charity, benevolence, courage, aye, there was courage to spare,… and love. A love of life, perhaps not his own, but still one that he could hope for and, at the very least, safeguard for others.

Startled gasps and exclamations filled the room as those that had sat in desperate vigil were both overjoyed and frightened as he rose soundlessly to his feet, his gleaming sword already to hand.

His presence filled the room like the rising of some Warrior God awakened to the call of battle.

Naked he rose from beneath his bedcovers. Naked and unashamed for the only raiment he required was the sheathed blade that he slung over his back-warrior fashion.

He strode purposely to the open door of the room that he occupied, oblivious to the startled gasps and calls around him, save to turn back at the threshold and command:

"All of you stay in the house. I shall ward it with my own life's blood. No darkness shall penetrate its portals so long as I still draw breath."

"H-Harry, b-but what…?" A frightened female voice hesitantly began to ask.

Harry's glowing orbs turned in the direction of Hermione's voice. If it were possible, one would almost swear the fires burning within his eyes softened reassuringly though his words were cryptic and foreboding as if in the throes of a prophesy.

"They are coming. Darkness dares come to claim the light. Death rides to sup at its vanguard,… and I find myself in need of a good meal." Harry answered in with the quirk of a terrifying grin pulling at the edges of his mouth.

"Noooo!" Hermione rasped out frightened.

Both her and Fleur nearby flew to him and grasped at his arms trying to draw him back into the room.

"Non" Fleur protested as he pulled his arm from her grasp with rock solid determination yet infinite gentleness as a parent would their own grasping child.

"Then let us come?" Hermione begged as he continued undaunted from the room.

Harry turned back and smiled tenderly at his two most steadfast friends. His truest family.

He reached out and softly laid a hand to each of their prospective cheeks.

"Where I go, you cannot follow. Do not worry over me for I shall not be alone; many good friends shall stand beside me. Their presence shall both comfort and inspire me. I am content in this."

Harry bent slightly and gently kissed Fleur's forehead, then Hermione's likewise. Tears of both happiness and dread fear filled both witches' eyes.

Compassionately, Harry brushed a hand across each of their trembling cheeks and whispered:

"Sleep" Both slumped unconsciously into his waiting arms.

Harry easily lifted them as if they were no more inconvenience than a small child, passing each to the reaching arms of their chosen life companion.

"Watch over them, always." He commanded Ron and Bill respectively.

Both wizards nodded solemnly as they held their mates reverently in their arms.

Harry turned his searing gaze back upon the room. "Look not upon the horizon for you will see nothing that you will wish to remember. Stay here in safety until it is over."

"H-How will we know when t-that is?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a frightened voice.

"You will know." Harry reassured vacantly, and then made to turn from the room, hesitating at the threshold to turn back and cast a last longing look toward Ginny's trembling form and Gabrielle's sniffling one next to her. Harry's jaw quivered as if he were struggling to speak, but finally he turned away and swept out of the Warren into the garden. What was there to say? They were a part of his past that was still grasping at the present.

He drew his molten silver sword from the sheath at his right shoulder, but did not call upon the spirits of the dead. He drew the razor sharp steel of his sword across his palm opening a shallow rent that filled with blood.

Allowing the blood to pool in his hand, he began an ancient Atlantean incantation. When he spoke the last word; thunder boomed ominously ough a cloudless sky overhead.

Harry cast his blood upon the outer wall of the Warren. A brilliant ruby flash erupted and bathed the home, covering it in an impenetrable shell of living energy.

Satisfied, Harry turned from his completed task and strode nakedly, obliviously so, across the grounds of the former Black estate, halting at the shore of the estate's lake where he re-sheathed his sword. He turned, keeping the waters of the lake intentionally to his back and waited patiently, casting his emerald gaze out across the grounds of his dead godfather's former estate.

Idly he mused how such a dark family as the Black's could have lived in such contrast. Whereas Grimauld Place was dark and foreboding, much like it's owners had been in life, Black Estate was the essence of culture and beauty. It was a sin to even consider that he would soon be the instrument by which this pristine haven would be marred by battle and death.

A faint movement upon the roofline caught his attention, eliciting an appreciative grin as he put his fingers to his mouth a whistled shrilly across the Warren's lawns. A predatory growl of delight answered his summons as a leathern winged acquaintance took to the air and flew like lightning in his direction.

Harry proffered his arm outward as Sara hovered to a stop just inches above his arm, beating her wings furiously as she descended feather light onto his waiting arm.

Harry marveled at the elegant grace of his familiar. Whereas dragons were enormous in size and terrible in power, Drake's were subtle by contrast. They had graceful, aerodynamic lines that depicted speed and agility, with a long tail to stabilize their flight in even the most adverse conditions. Where dragons could breathe fire endlessly without exhausting their reserves, Drake's could summon but a single burst or two for short durations, but their fire was vastly hotter and more destructive then their cousin's was. Dragons moved awkwardly on the ground, but Sara moved with the speed and grace of a viper- their distant cousins.

In her natural form Sara was a no more than three feet in length, and half that was ridged tail. Dark blue in coloring with green eyes so dark they appeared black except in direct sunlight. Sara's eyes gleamed with cunning intelligence from beneath her horned visage. When Sara summoned her magic she could increase her size for short durations to nearly half that of her Dragon cousins. Along with the obvious increase in strength this brought, so too was the speed of her flight increased, but for a limited time span. Though useful in battle, her natural state was far superior as she could teleport, after a fashion, over vast distances. Drakes were the only species known that could produce such a feat.

"_Saaa hiss thaaa faaazuuu_." Harry greeted in parseltongue. The language of the snake was common to all reptilian creatures.

Sara hissed back a scolding, voicing her displeasure at being so long departed from her familiar. She looked him over with a skeptical eye and pronounced his pale skinned nakedness- "_Disgusting_"

"I_ have missed you too_." Harry returned fondly in parsel tongue. He scratched Sara's scaled throat, eliciting a deep rumbling purr of appreciation for his trouble. Sara's dark green eyes rolled back and her forked black tongue lolled from her snouted mouth from between razor sharp fangs that gleamed in the afternoon sun.

"_The little ones_?" Harry asked after her younglings. Drakes were also capable of baring a single littler without having to mate, a rarity even in the magical world.

A rumbling gurgle of pride escaped Sara's jaws as a puff of smoldering, smoke shot from her snouted nose as the proud mother informed Harry that her 'little ones' were no longer little and had taken to wing, now hunting for themselves.

"_Have you taught them our way_?" Harry questioned hopefully.

"_All I know,… They are ready_." Sara answered with no little pride.

Harry nodded. "_Could you summon the knight's please? Take a message to Bjorn to have whatever force he can muster attack from the north end of the property at our enemies rear, while I bait them here at the water's edge. You and Gregory strafe the eastern side of any stragglers and have the twins take the western edge. Drive them into the lake_."

Sara eyed him with a toothy, near incredulous look of suspicion. "_To what purpose, surely ones such as they cannot drown- they are not even alive_?" A snort of flame burst from her nostrils to emphasize her displeasure with his strategy.

Harry's eyes scanned the horizon warily. His empathic senses screamed that the enemies of the light would soon be upon him.

"_There is no time for debate_." He warned edgily. "I_ ask but your trust as you have mine in all things_." He reminded her, though with a hint of warmth. Her concern was for his welfare though and not truly a matter of simple trust.

"It_ shall be as you say, my knight_." Sara hissed loyally, brushing her soft scaled head against his shoulder affectionately adding, "_Try not to get yourself killed before I return to save you_."

"_Cheeky lizard_" Harry groused, but with no little affection as he tossed her from his arm into the air.

In a burst of fire and brimstone, Sara teleported away to carry out his assigned tasks.

Spare moments passed from the time of Sara's departure when a deafening screech erupted across the length of the estate and a tear in the fabric between planes of existence opened up and spilled a horde of monstrosities unto the once pristine lawns of the Black Estate.

Morbidly, Harry wondered if Sirius's dark witch of a mother would have been pleased or incensed by this intrusion upon her property? With a dark chuckle he surmised that it would have depended on whether these once men were purebloods when they still breathed.

Three or four score, shambling horrors of once men blinked stupidly in the light of day, perhaps seeing the sun again for the first time in centuries.

He almost pitied them, though knowing it was their choices in life that had led them to the sorry state they now found themselves in. Evil in life as they once had been was perhaps as nothing compared to millennia of endless torments, corrupting the soul into something far darker and primordial, leading to the twisted, slavering monstrosities that now growled and snapped at each other like rabid beasts. All sense of logic and reason had been driven away along with what little semblance of humanity they may haps once possessed.

They were reduced in mind and body to the essence of the evil they were in life.

Rotted putrid flesh, of rotten souls; cruelly fanged, slavering jaws that now thirsted for the blood of the living as they had in life thirsted for power at the expense of the innocent.

The foul stench of decay and putrescence assailed his senses. Their corruption in life could no longer stain the living, but it could still be feared and reviled.

Steeling himself, Harry placed his first and little fingers to his lips a blew a shrill whistle that attracted their confused attention.

"Are you lot gonna sit there all day scratching your arses or are we gonna get this thing started already?" Harry bellowed in challenge.

Dozens of startled, feral eyes swiveled in Harry direction. An anxious moment passed , till one of the creatures boldly howled it's ravening thirst for his blood, soon joined by the growls and shrieks of its fellows rose and wafted across the grounds like a madman's symphony, as the horde bolted in his direction.

Harry calmly drew his gleaming sword but did not summon the souls of his dead lest he forestall his enemies' thoughtless charge to their own destruction.

"Thy will be done, Great Father." He whispered in solemn prayer at the horde descended upon him.

Barely a handful of minutes had passed between the time Harry had risen, (healed and renewed to something even surpassing all that he once was), like some avenging angel from his comatose state.

At that moment the family huddled together in near terror at the sound of the blood ravening screams that echoed through the walls of their home and the floors shook beneath their feet as the horde outside descended upon Harry.

"Merlin's blood, what's that?" Ron swore pulling his wand instinctively from its holster at his side.

"Nothing you'll ever want to see." Ginny whispered fearfully a few seats away. She suppressed a shudder of dread terror as she fought back the memory of what she'd seen the night the Burrow had been destroyed.

Heedless of the eyes in the room that turned in her direction, Ginny fixed her eyes on the doorway that Harry had framed when he turned back to the room in all his naked glory. She filled her reeling senses with the image, grateful that it drove away the memory of the horrors she'd witnessed that night, instead dwelling on the breath taking visage of her once teenage love.

With burning cheeks, Ginny etched every nuance of the vision that was Harry, within her mind: His rippling muscles that glowed with strength and vitality. The way the hilt of his gleaming sword jutted up behind his broad right shoulder. Night black hair that framed a powerful jaw and cheekbones below glowing green eyes that both frightened and enchanted any who dared look into them. His broad flat chest that seamlessly melted into hard ridged abdominal muscles rimmed by powerful, sleek hips and steel hard legs that belied speed, agility and grace.

Despite herself, she'd ventured a look further down. How could she not? That too was as pleasing as the rest of him. His manhood was not overly large, but perfectly symmetrical with the rest of his well honed physique.

He was breath taking.

Shamelessly, Ginny realized that she was looking at the most beautiful representation of a man that she could ever want to see.

By the gasps that sounded from, Gabrielle next to her and the bright blush that suffused her rival friend's cheeks; she could tell that Gabrielle was struggling to ingrain the same memory on her mind's eye that she was.

Strangely, she wasn't jealous of this in the least. Her estimation of Gabrielle rose accordingly in shared appreciation of beauty.

They'd both saw him naked before. Had they not each stolen looks beneath his covers as he lay comatose. The curiosity of it had been too much to bear, not to.

As enticing as that had been, it was as nothing to seeing Harry standing with sword in hand in all his naked glory, his magic swirling around him unbridled, the air crackling with energy.

A Warrior God! An avenging angel! A hero, knight and what-a-Knight!

Ginny growled low in her throat, oblivious to the sounds of battle outside, as she wantonly reveled in the memory. She's never been so utterly turned on in her life!

Gabrielle sat dumbstruck, lost in her thoughts until the first primordial screams of rage outside shook the windows of the manse.

Her wand leapt into her hand and she was about to bolt for the door when her brother in laws restraining hand grasped her arm and held fast.

Her terrified eyes met her brother in-laws worried, but calm and reassuring ones. She could see the fear for Harry's safety in his eyes, warring with the steadfast faith he had in him.

Gabrielle's lips parted to plead her case, but Bill shook his head and whispered in French:

"Let him do as he must. You will only serve as a distraction that he can ill afford. He was born to this for he is truly the light's chosen champion. Be brave for him. He will return to us and will need you then. Comfort him,… understand him. Cherish him, and **if** he lets you in,… then love him my sister. Love him with every fiber of your being for he deserves no less."

Gabrielle gaped momentarily at her brother in law, contemplating his words and what they portended. The fact that he was giving her this advice over his own sister, whose feelings he was as aware of as she, spoke volumes for to her and she was grateful, very grateful and humbled by this revelation.

She smiled in grateful understanding and squeezed Bill's restraining hand appreciatively, careful not to disturb her sleeping sister in his embrace.

Molly Weasley's mind was a mass of whirling thoughts. Memories warred with one another as she compared one fleeting memory of the scrawny haunted Harry Potter of years past with the herculean warrior knight who stood majestically before her family only moments ago. If someone had told her then that Harry would grow into the frame of the man she saw today, she would have laughed in their face.

Now she understood better. Harry's outside was now the image of what was inside the man. He was the epitome of a hero in every sense of the word; a gallant knight of legend.

Silently she rose from her place at his now empty bedside, shrugged off her husband's half hearted attempts to hold her back and made for the doorway.

"There's nothing you or anyone else can do, Molly. This is knight's business." her husband warned.

"I can bear witness!" she argued, explaining. "I can tell the story to my grandchildren when they are old enough to understand. I can see that his story is passed down from generation to generation as it deserves to be. In at least this much I can see him honored in the way that he deserves, but would never dare think he does."

"Molly," Arthur near pleaded with his wife. "You heard, Harry. What happens now is not meant for you to see."

Molly shook her head resolutely. "Do you think his mother is not watching over him in this? Can I do less than she who bore him? I do this as much for Lily as for Harry."

Arthur Weasley's mouth hung agape in consternation a moment before he reluctantly conceded and nodded his acceptance of her decision.

Molly walked into her kitchen and peered cautiously through the blood hued haze of her windows. What she bore witness to defied the imagination.

Harry stood with sword in hand waiting patiently, seemingly trapped between the water's edge and the nightmare that descended upon him.

Molly prayed to Merlin above that he would flee. _No man could stand against that, not even Harry Potter!_

Shambling, ravenous grotesqueries they were. Mindless, feral spawn of some misbegotten ring of the pit from whence they came. They were walking sin incarnate, a blasphemy to the eye of the creator.

_And Harry!? Harry just stood there, waiting at the water's edge. _He was as naked as the day he was born, with only a sword in his hand. It was if he held a toothpick to battle a horde of dragons.

They were no more than two hundred meters from him and closing fast. Hooves and clawed feet tore into their once pristine lawn, rattling the Warren's windows, even at this distance away.

Harry raised his gleaming blade above his head, reversed his grip and plunged it into the ground, like she remembered he had done at the Harpies match. Only this time he was not saving thousands of innocent lives, but taking out a host of evil. The moment his sword pierced the earth, the ground on either side of him erupted and enormous rocky spikes lanced skyward.

Molly cringed back reflexively, shocked by such an immense display of magical power. Never would she have thought any living soul capable of such a feat of transmutation. Not even Dumbledore in his heyday could have duplicated such a feat. It was in this moment that Molly understood why no one for over a thousand years had accomplished the rank that Harry held. This is what it meant to be a **Battle Mage**.

The spikes rose some fifty feet into the sky branching out from Harry at an angle to either side. As wide as tree trunks at the base rising to sharp points that for many held the impaled forms of nightmare creatures that twisted and scrabbled uselessly trying to free themselves before finally going limp, succumbing to the true death, never to rise again on either the Earth or in the next life.

From her vantage point Molly could see the tactical advantage Harry was employing. Not only had the spikes taken a small toll on the advancing horde, but they were now forced into a gauntlet with Harry and his gleaming sword waiting at the apex. They could not flank him and the narrow space through which they could reach him nullified their great numbers.

The space between the spikes was too small for the demons to squeeze through to escape, but large enough for Molly to catch their continued movements between the gaps. Though momentarily shocked, the demons surged forward with renewed ferocity, infuriated by the loss of their brethren.

Molly pressed her face to the window pane, struggling to see what was happening. She gasped apprehensively as the bellows of bloodlust outside rose to a crescendo- heralding the worst, but within moments those selfsame roars turned to screams of pain and terror.

Molly pulled back from the window pane, her hand reflexively covering her mouth to stifle her own screams of horror as black blood and ichor burst from between the spiked wall. The spikes themselves shook and crumbled as if a giant were bashing them down with a war hammer. The floor shook beneath her feet and the window cracked from the shockwave.

Within the space of a few intense minutes the last of the spike crumbled back into the ground from whence they rose, sending a plume of dust and debris outward that obscured the vision.

Muted humanlike cries of pain and agony assaulted the ears. As the dust began to settle, Molly could just make out thrashing limbs that clawed vainly at the air, struggling to rise before falling back to the ground in utter defeat. She scanned across the ground desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Harry amidst the chaos and destruction that littered the lawns of their estate, but he was nowhere to be found.

In horror, she watched as one blackened man-shaped demon staggered to its feet amidst the carnage of the battlefield. Her fear gave way to desperate joy as she beheld vivid green eyes open and with a wave of his hand, Harry banished the black blood and gore covering his flesh.

He walked the breadth of the field several times, dispatching the wounded and dying with a quick sword stroke here and a casual flick of his hand that sent _cutting hexes_ into his wounded foes with such force that the ground was torn asunder beneath their now lifeless bodies.

Once satisfied that all his foes were no more, Harry kneeled upon the ground and place his forehead against the tip of his sword in silent prayer.

_What he prayed for?_ Molly could only hazard a guess. Perhaps he was saying a prayer of thanks for his having survived? Knowing Harry, she believed he was most likely saying a prayer for the vanquished by asking the Great Father's mercy in their behalf.

She would have been right on both counts, with the addition that he was also thanking the father for returning to him the means to keep innocent safe.

Harry rose to his feet and, in one swift motion, swung his sword in an arc across the battlefield which erupted in white hot flames. The flames died almost as quickly as they had been summoned to life, leaving behind naught but the ashes of the fallen.

Harry pointed his sword toward the lake, whose waters surged forward, sending a thirty foot wave crashing across the lawn. The waters receded back into the lakebed, washing away the ash of the fallen, cleansing the bare earth leaving not so much as a scorch mark still visible.

Harry snapped his fingers and his patronus glimmered into being. He spoke softly to "prongs" and with a wave, sent his patronus streaking away into the countryside to deliver its message.

Molly was about to breach the door of her kitchen when an entire platoon of armored knights apparated on the north end of their lawns.

_Now they come?_ She smirked at the irony. Help always seemed to come too late for Harry Potter, not that he ever seemed to need it to begin with. Harry always found a way.

Molly watched with interest as the First Knight and Harry seemed to be engaged in an argument of sorts. Bjorn Dykstra seemed to be giving Harry a first rate dressing down. _Dressing down? _

Molly chuckled in amusement. Judging by the jeering laughter and catcalls coming from the armored knights gathered nearby, that was exactly the reason Harry was being taken to task-his nakedness.

Harry, for his part, was standing stoically in front of Dykstra with his arms folded across his powerful chest and chin held high. Molly recognized this stubborn stance from Harry's youth and knew that Dykstra was wasting his breath. Harry was not only unashamed, but was actually proud of himself.

_Good for you, dear._

Dykstra finally wore himself down and through his hands up in frustration and stalked off, scowling at his giggling subordinates as he passed.

Harry turned on his heal and marched toward the kitchen door, ignoring his jeering comrades. When he was not more than a few yards away he waved his hand, casually nullifying the _blood charm_ he'd placed over the Warren and continued onward without the slightest pause.

He entered the kitchen door and paused as he registered Molly's amused expression before proceeding toward the kitchen table where he pulled the tablecloth off and wrapped it around his naked torso to preserve his waning dignity.

He marched past sparing her the slightest of glances and a quiet "Molly" of acknowledgement as he continued onward toward his suite.

He entered the room ignoring the startled gasps and sighs of relief that his arrival elicited.

George was the first to break the ice with a feigned groan of disappointment. "I take it the supper's going to be late?", referring to his choice of wardrobe.

Harry's face colored slightly at that but he managed to make it through the, now laughing room, to the door of his private suite before Ginny was able to get out a gasping retort of…"K-Kilts don't suit y-you, H-Harry… Oh-he-he," She giggled falling against Percy's shoulder while he struggled himself to hold in his aching sides. "I much p-prefer what you had on b-b-before..Ha-Ha…."

Harry's back went crimson and his pace quickened as he nearly bolted into his dressing room, slamming the door in a blind panic behind him.

Twenty minutes later a freshly showered and attired Harry Potter entered his bedroom from the adjoining bath suite.

His piercing gaze swept the room finding everyone still present plus Molly, who was still giggling slightly at his expense. His eyes narrowed dangerously daring them to utter a single word. The room quieted of all but an occasional snort that he let pass without comment other than to scowl at its perpetrator.

He stopped by Molly and politely asked if he could have a bite to eat as he was, not surprisingly, "famished".

"Of course, dear." She cheered, adding. "Supper will be ready shortly." Molly reached out a hand to receive her tablecloth that he had returned and snorted "I'll just tuck this in the wash, shall I?"

Harry's face flamed as the rest of the room erupted in laughter again.

Supper was its usual affair with silverware clicking with pleasant, even joking conversation, some of it still at Harry's expense. It was probably the most comfortable, family like environment they'd shared as a group in quite some time.

Harry had been actually enjoying himself up until the time when Ginny asked innocently enough.

"Harry,… why do you do it?"

The room went forebodingly silent, though Harry seemed oblivious to the room's reaction.

"Because I can." He answered simply, continuing his meal unabated.

"But the constant danger, it's terrifying,.. aren't you even scared when you're out there?"

Harry's eyes went out of focus for a moment, and then he answered succinctly. "All the time."

"Then why? What's worth that?"

"I thought your family was? You and so many others around the world, am I wrong in my assumptions?" He returned incredulously before trying to return to his meal.

"Well, no,… but don't you want anything for yourself?"

Hermione gasped expectantly at that and the table went dead silent as many eyes lowered and some shifted their gazes nervously between Harry and Ginny.

Harry sighed and set his fork calmly down on his plate. He pushed his plate away in disappointment, his appetite ruined.

"Harry?" Ginny pressed; oblivious to the discomfort she was causing both him and the rest of her family.

He turned in his chair and addressed her wearily. "What would you have me do? Being a knight does not preclude us from having the same wants and desires as any other man. It is our sense of duty and our own personal honor that dictates our actions. The safety of the civilian public is first and foremost our responsibility. It's all a matter of priorities, really. Just because I don't shag you rotten right here on the dining table, in front of God and everyone, doesn't mean the thought hasn't occurred to me with more than a passing interest. "

Ginny flamed red at that whilst Ron sprayed his coffee across the table and his brothers howled in laughter.

Mr. Weasley sighed and mimicked Harry's action of pushing his plate away. Harry's visual had ruined his appetite now as well.

Apparently Harry had found his again and resumed eating amidst snickers and snorts from Ginny's brothers.

Once the table had settled, Harry paused to compliment his host. "This is quite delicious Mrs. Weasley, thank you."

"You're very welcome, dear." At seeing her husband's scandalized glare, she quickly amended. "I mean, Lord Knight."

"Harry,… will do to be going on with." He corrected off handily, not noticing the beaming smile that lit her face at his willingness to dispatch with cool formality.

Either that or he just didn't want to argue the validity of addressing him as a knight.

"Perhaps you'll allow me to return the favor?" he continued. "I usually hold a rather informal party at my ranch at the end of July, which of course is less than a week away,… anyway, I should be most pleased if you all would consider attending?" he invited.

Molly beamed sweeping her gaze around her family who all looked quite excited at the prospect.

"I think it safe to say that we would all be delighted to attend, Harry. Thank you."

Harry nodded as he dug into his pudding with relish.

"Can we , er,.. bring anything?" Ginny asked politely.

"You may want to bring your bathing attire. I like that little yellow number of yours." Harry added airily whilst Ginny's face went crimson again.

The bikini he'd mentioned was the skimpiest one she owned.

George elbowed Percy. "Yes, Ginnikins , it must be the yellow one. You wouldn't want to disappoint our host, now would you?' George chortled.

Ginny shot her brothers a death glare that lost much of its potency given the fact that she was blushing to her roots.

Molly cleared her throat meaningfully and asked. "Anything else? A nice salad or dessert, perhaps?"

Harry shrugged. "Nah, we've pretty much got it covered, but I suggest jeans and boots, it's pretty rough out there.

"Ginny," he drew the redhead's attention... "mind the picnic tables for **slivers** and such." drawing reference to his earlier comment regarding "shagging" her atop the table.

The boys, including Mr. Weasley guffawed at that whilst Ginny's hands went to her purpled face as she flew out of the room.

Once she was out of ear shot, the ladies joined the men in waves of laughter.

Harry just continued eating,… his eyes twinkling merrily.


End file.
